


Lay My Tongue Upon Your Scars

by MissHazelA



Category: Glee
Genre: And third chances let's be real, Bad Pick Up Lines, Date fails, Drunk Texting, Drunk sexting, Embarrassing kitchen disasters, F/M, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, LMTUYS, M/M, Multi, OTP: Just give me a chance, Sam Is a Good Friend, Sam is the only sane man, Sebastian gets the shovel talk, Second Chances, Shovel talks for everyone, Some drunk kissing with spoken consent, Texting, The Warblers are snarky, There is no graphic violence, Tina and Blaine are secretly getting married, Tina is sassy, WARNING for descriptions of a character suicide attempt, WARNING for descriptions of past abuse, WARNING for descriptions of past bullying, Warning for family homophobia, Wes gets the shovel talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 203,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHazelA/pseuds/MissHazelA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 4 divergence. Right before his senior year begins, Blaine accidentally receives a text message from Sebastian. When he finds that his one-time friend is serious about turning over a new leaf, he replies and they rekindle their friendship. Unfortunately, between the Warblers, Sebastian's scheming twin sister, and a growing distance from Kurt, Blaine finds that old attractions die hard.<br/>This is the archived version of the fic posted weekly on my tumblr at http://laymytongueuponyourscarsff.tumblr.com/<br/>Warnings will be posted at the top of each chapter AND above their section.<br/>Title from the Bruce Springsteen song "Worlds Apart."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Warnings for this chapter: Discussion of Dave's suicide attempt and not-graphic discussion of homophobic bullying at school.**

 

 **Prologue:** Ten years later

It took the entire day to finish packing the tiny apartment and move all the boxes out. The three of them bumped into each other constantly in the small rooms and narrow hallways, occasionally dropping things (though thankfully, nothing too valuable). They stopped sometimes to dance and sing along to music from the iPod speakers they’d set up in the corner of the living room. Sophie’s music collection was full of the high-energy dance anthems they couldn’t resist, and several times the downstairs neighbor pounded on the ceiling. They just laughed.

Finally, the furniture had been moved out (most of it donated—it was all secondhand, mismatched, or cheap anyway) and everything had been packed. Except for the photos.

Sophie had covered her walls in photos. There were hundreds of them, all different sizes, in different frames, some black and white and others in brilliant color. None of them matched, there was no theme. It had started years ago, when she’d first moved in, and put up a single large photo—a ballerina’s feet clad in black pointe shoes. From there on she had added new photos whenever she felt like it and they had begun to form large, organically shaped clusters on every wall, before finally taking up every available space. Surprisingly, it didn’t look cluttered or messy. Just like Sophie, it all worked.

So Sebastian stood in the center of the living room near the end of the day, a few empty boxes at his feet, a sheaf of newspaper to wrap the photos held at his side. The bass line of some electronic dance song was pumping. He felt, stupidly, like dancing on the open floor.

He heard the front door close behind him and a moment later, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist.

“Hey,” his husband mumbled, face pressed between his shoulder blades.

He clasped the other man’s hands. “Hey yourself. Ready for the last big task?”

“No. Shouldn’t your sister be here helping us?”

“Yeah, I’ll call her over in a second.” He turned so he was facing his husband and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for coming over to help.”

“No problem.”

“I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you too, Sebastian.”

They stood wrapped in each other’s warmth for a second before Sophie came crashing in the front door, instantly humming along to the music. “Oh my _god_ , it’s so EMPTY!”

Both men laughed and opened their arms to pull her into a bone-crushing group hug. She laughed even as she gasped for air, kissing both of their cheeks. “Thank you guys, so much. I love you both.”

Blaine laughed. “We love you too, Sophie.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian added, “otherwise you’d be moving your own ass out of this fourth floor walk-up.”

She laughed again. “Well, thankfully the new place has an elevator! And, like, a complete ceiling and stuff. I’m moving _up_ in the world, now.”

It was Blaine’s turn to laugh. “Oh come on, you’re gonna miss this place so much.”

“Yes, the occasional collapsing wall really added a certain _something._ ”

“You know what I mean.” He broke the embrace so they could all turn toward the living room, but he kept a hand on her lower back. “There are so many memories here. I think everyone we know has lived here at one point or another. Including me. It’s like…”

“The final episode of ‘Friends,’” Sebastian supplied.

Blaine and Sophie stared at him in surprise for a second.

“What? That show was _awesome_.”

Sophie just shook her head. “Whatever. Let’s get started on all these photos, okay? I’m gonna put on different music.”

They started slowly, pulling down the photos from the walls and laying them on the floor, not having the heart to pack them away just yet. They had only pulled a few down from the walls when something caught Blaine’s eye. He turned over the framed photo and there on the back was a bright blue post-it note, with the date written in Sophie’s looping, slightly tilted handwriting.

“Sebastian?” His husband paused from pulling down another photo. “Did you know she put dates on these?”

Sebastian turned over the small photo he had in his hand. “Huh. Of course she did.” He turned to his sister, who was pulling photos down from the opposite wall. “Sophie?” She turned. “Dates? Really?”

She shrugged. “My memory for dates has never been as good as yours, you know that.”

Blaine stared at the picture in his hands. It was a picture from his and Sebastian’s wedding: Sophie and their old friends Nick and Jeff dancing like complete idiots at the reception, laughing hysterically and having a blast. “Could we… I have an idea.”

They continued pulling the photos down from the living room, then moved down the hall (which was also covered) and into her bedroom. As they took down the photos, they laid them out on the living room floor in order, with the earliest photos pushed up against the far wall under the window seat and the latest almost reaching to the front door. It became a maze, with only tiny spots between the delicate frames to place their feet.

Blaine began to notice something about the photos. With the exception of two or three photos of Sebastian and Sophie as kids (including an incredibly cute one of a round faced twelve-year-old Sophie holding an ice pack to her brother’s black eye), they began in Sophie and Sebastian’s senior year of high school. It began with their traditional “first day of school” photo (them on the front steps of their house, Sebastian in his Dalton blazer, Sophie in her Crawford Country Day vest—though in that photo, they were swing dancing) and ended two months ago, with one of Sebastian’s professional portraits of a young woman in Sophie’s dance company.

There was something else there, too: on the backs of some of the photos—maybe one out of every five—was an extra note. Some of them were just a single line (“Stop stepping on my feet, dammit!” on the back of a picture their friends dancing, “If you ever repeat that story, you’ll be in deep” on a portrait Sebastian had taken of Nick, his tattoos on display) but some were full letters to the person in the photo. When they found a note, they’d convene in the center of the living room and read it together. Some of the inside jokes they all knew (they’d kept the same core group of friends), though some Sophie refused to explain, giggling with her hands over her mouth like a little girl.

Blaine found one he remembered well: him in a hospital bed, an IV in the back of his hand, Sophie sitting next to him on top of the blankets. They were laughing, heads thrown back, either unaware or uncaring of the fact that Blaine was hospitalized. Blaine remembered that Sebastian had walked out for only a few minutes to get something to eat, not wanting to be away from him for even a minute (though he had insisted he was fine, he was just dehydrated and had fainted during a rehearsal, no big deal, it happens) and Sophie had taken the opportunity to jump into the bed with him. In those days Sebastian had never been without his camera, and had taken the photo so discreetly that Blaine knew nothing about he saw it hanging next to the living room window. On the back was a small sheet of creamy stationery.

Dear Blaine,

This is my favorite photo of us together, even if you were sick at the time. I love that we are always making each other laugh. I’m so glad you’re part of my family.

Love,

Your little sister

Blaine had had to step outside the apartment to compose himself for a few minutes after he read the note (Sebastian and Sophie’s rule for the day was ‘no crying!’). He’d been referring to Sophie as “little sister” for about the past five years, since he’d never had a real sister and, from the moment he and Sebastian had gotten together, she was part of his life too. Sebastian referred to himself and his twin as a “package deal.”

When they were done, they walked through, each at their own pace, stopping and looking over a photo they remembered or a memory that was special to them. The last ten years were laid out at their feet in little vignettes, with every major moment represented. Their college graduations. Sophie and Jeff opening their dance studio. Sebastian’s first professional photo shoot. Friends’ weddings. Their wedding. Mixed in were the smaller moments, friends having fun, laughing, drinking, going on adventures. All those moments that made up the last ten years of their lives.

Sophie loved the small moments. At big events in her life, Sophie would duck her head away from Sebastian’s camera, blushing and telling him to go bother someone else. It was the small, ordinary moments—sitting in a diner late at night, walking on her hands down the sidewalk, goofing off at dance rehearsal—those were the moments where she let her brother or her friends take her picture. She had told Blaine once she would always remember the big moments. It was the small ones she couldn’t hold onto, couldn’t keep them all tucked away safely in her mind. So she wanted the reminders.

Ten years of small moments. Blaine had had them too, as had Sebastian. It was what had drawn them together. No big, life changing events had shifted their lives around during their senior year of high school. No great disasters, no fantastic triumphs. The world had continued turning as it always had. And somehow, thousands of small things had changed, and finally those thousands of small moments and things had piled on until their lives were completely different.

The twins stood near the front door, arms crossed over their chests, subconsciously mirroring each other like they often did.

“Holy shit, Soph,” Sebastian murmured to her. “You’re moving out and getting _married_.”

“Holy shit, Seb, you got married _first_.”

They sent each other a look and simultaneously burst out laughing, then Sebastian pulled his sister into a hug. “Come on, let’s get these packed up. Wes owes us dinner.”

 

~~~~~

 

**Lay my Tongue Upon Your Scars: 1**

Warnings: Super brief mention of past bullying.

It was late evening on Friday, August 10th when Blaine’s phone beeped. Not that he hadn’t been expecting a text message—Kurt always sent at least a “good night” before bed—but the name on the screen was Sebastian Smythe.

They hadn’t talked since the slushie, and Blaine had rather preferred it that way. Things had been rough enough with Kurt lately, and if Blaine was really being honest with himself, he couldn’t find the necessary hatred of Sebastian to keep things smoothed over in his relationship. So it was just better to avoid the situation entirely.

He checked the message anyway.

 **Sebastian** : Hey Warblers. Sophie’s surgery went well. She’s been up and about and has hit me with her crutches twice. She says thanks for the flowers.

Before Blaine could even begin to ask all the questions the text raised—why was he included on a Warbler text, who was Sophie, why did the Warblers send her flowers—his phone beeped again.

 **Sebastian:** And on a personal note, I’d like to add: Trent Nixon, you are a jackass.

That was more like the Sebastian he knew, but it didn’t answer anything. He sighed, put the phone down on his desk, and started to change into his pajamas. His phone beeped again—and then again several times. Sebastian must have forgotten to turn off “reply all” because half the Warblers were blowing up his phone. He decided to leave it for a few minutes, and when he returned from brushing his teeth he had over twenty new texts.

 **Nick** : Tell her I say hi! Did you take her phone cause she’s messed up on Percocet again?

 **Trent** : MWAHAHA!

 **Jeff:** Let me talk to her! I miss my Sophiiiiiiiiie

 **Thad** : Trent, what did you do now?

 **Sebastian** : Trent I hate you

 **Wes:** Is she still gonna come to rehearsals?

 **Trent** : REVENGE NUMBER THREE!

 **Nick** : I’m sure the hit with the crutches was completely deserved.

 **Jeff** : Put her on the phoooooooone!

 **Sebastian** : He gave her an air horn. A FUCKING AIR HORN. I’m gonna kill you!

 **Trent** : Just in case she needs anything! Then she can call you!

 **Nick** : Please stop her if she starts spilling all my secrets this time. Seriously.

 **Thad:** Best. Revenge. Ever.

 **Jeff:** YES! Go Trent!

 **Wes** : I approve. Well done, Trent. But seriously, Sebastian, tell her to take it easy this time.

 **Sebastian** : I fucking hate all of you.

It went on from there, but Blaine was too confused to even try, so he wrote a new message to Trent instead.

 **Blaine** : Hey Trent. Seems I got in on this conversation accidentally. Who’s Sophie?

 **Trent** : Hey Blaine! Sebastian must still have you as a Warbler in his phone. Sophie’s his twin sister. You never met her?

 **Blaine:** OHMYGOD he has a TWIN? As in, there’s more than one of him?

 **Trent** : Hahaha I know right? But you’d actually like her. She’s a dancer, helps us out with choreography. Really sweet.

 **Trent** : I’ll tell him not to bother you anymore. It was probably a mistake anyway.

 **Blaine** : It’s really not a big deal.

 **Blaine** : Did you seriously give her an air horn?

 **Trent** : My own personal revenge on Sebastian. I get three, so I saved the best for last.

 **Blaine** : I’m afraid to ask what the other two were.

 **Trent** : You should be.

 **Blaine** : What was the revenge for anyway?

 **Trent** : One revenge for each time he made me cry at rehearsal, the jackass.

 **Blaine:** Wait WHAT he made you CRY?

 **Trent** : Three times last year. Yeah. But that’s all in the past now. I know you won’t believe it, but he’s taking this “turning over a new leaf” thing really seriously.

 **Trent** : He’s changed a lot. We’re all sorta like friends now.

 **Blaine** : I really want to believe you.

 **Trent** : It’s all okay. Really.

 **Blaine** : If you say so. Anyway, I gotta go to bed. I’m gonna shut off my phone so you all don’t keep me awake. We should hang out before school starts.

 **Trent** : Yeah that would be awesome. Talk to you later!

Blaine leaned back on his pillow. His thoughts were tangled and spilling all over each other. _Trent and Sebastian are friends?_ That must mean that Sebastian was friends with _all_ of the Warblers—Blaine may have been oblivious, but it was always SO obvious that Trent had a crush on him, and it must have taken a heroic effort on Sebastian’s part to get Trent to forgive him for the slushie incident. Blaine let out a long, slow breath, trying to calm his thoughts so he could get some sleep. There’s too much going on lately. There’s always too much going on, and all he wanted was a decent night’s sleep.

His phone beeped again and the name “Sebastian Smythe” popped up. Blaine was tempted to ignore it. It was probably just another accidentally sent mass text. He paused for a second, moved to turn off his phone, then gave in to curiosity and opened the message.

 **Sebastian** : Hey. I know you hate me. Sorry about including you on the mass text. It was a mistake.

Blaine knew he shouldn’t reply. For a second, he went back and forth—he didn’t or shouldn’t like Sebastian, but it would be poor manners not to acknowledge the apology.

 **Blaine** : No big deal. And for the record, I don’t actually hate you.

 **Sebastian** : Good to know. I’ll stop bothering you just the same.

 **Blaine:** No really-it’s okay. I didn’t know you had a twin sister.

 **Sebastian:** I never mentioned her?

 **Blaine:** You were always too busy flirting with me.

 **Sebastian:** Oh yeah. Well, I have a twin sister. Her name’s Sophie. I’d introduce you, but she’s sleeping off some heavy-duty painkillers right now.

 **Sebastian** : I’d offer to send you a picture, but she’s drooling all over herself and even I’m not that cruel.

 **Blaine:** What happened?

 **Sebastian:** Knee surgery. Torn ACL. She’s a dancer—her dumbass partner dropped her the wrong way.

 **Blaine:** That’s terrible.

 **Sebastian:** Nothing she hasn’t recovered from before. She only woke up a few hours ago and she’s already terrorizing me, so she’ll be fine.

 **Blaine:** Oh. Well add my well wishes to all the other Warblers.

 **Sebastian:** Sure.

 **Sebastian:** Look I know I said this a million times already, but please hear me out and I’ll never bother you again.

 **Sebastian:** I am so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t even really mean to hurt your boyfriend, regardless of what I thought of him.

 **Sebastian:** I was a complete jackass to you and you have every right to still be pissed at me. But I’m really trying to change things.

 **Sebastian:** And I just wanted to say, again, that I’m sorry.

Blaine stared at his phone for a moment. Sebastian had apologized before—over text and voicemail dozens of times after the incident, then in person at the Lima Bean, and several more times via text message before Blaine had made it clear that he didn’t want to hear any more and to stop texting him. The apologies had always been sincere, despite Sebastian’s sarcastic personality. This time, though, it felt different. Blaine couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

It took him far too long to type his reply.

 **Blaine** : You can stop apologizing now. I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.

 **Sebastian** : Thank you.

 **Sebastian:** By the way, if you mention this to anyone, I’ll deny it.

Blaine grinned, despite himself.

 **Blaine** : I don’t think anyone would believe me.

 **Sebastian** : That’s probably true. Look, I gotta go—Sophie’s having weird painkiller dreams again. She always wakes up a complete mess.

 **Blaine** : Okay.

 **Sebastian:** You should stop by Warbler practice someday. Sophie would love you, and I’m sure the guys all miss you. I won’t even try to get in your pants.

 **Blaine** : Sounds like fun. I’ll hold you to that last part.

 **Sebastian** : I expect you will, wonderboy. ‘Night.

 **Blaine** : ‘Night.

Blaine sat for a minute, grinning at his phone. Then, suddenly, he realized what he had been doing. He had been talking with Sebastian. Sebastian who had tried to break up his relationship with Kurt. Sebastian who had shamelessly propositioned him over and over. Sebastian who had put him in the _hospital_ , for God’s sake, regardless if it was an accident or not.

He hastily shut off his phone and, as he lay down, resolved to forget all about it.

 

~~~~~

 

 **2** Early March, junior year

Warning: Mentions of Dave’s suicide attempt.

Sebastian took a deep breath and readjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder for the third time. He was nervous. He didn’t _get_ nervous, but there he was all the same. He knew he should have just knocked on the door and strutted in like he owned the place, cocky grin firmly fixed on his face, the way he always did. Of course it was “doing things the way he always did” that had gotten him here, so it wasn’t an option this time. So he, Sebastian Smythe, stood paralyzed in the hospital hallway, bag over his shoulder, a bundle of ridiculous flowers in his hand, and a gift bag in the other.

This was going to suck.

He knocked on the door and waited for the soft “come in” that replied before opening the door. He was half prepared to use the usual routine—the charm, the swagger—but what he saw stopped him dead.

Dave looked so _small_ in the hospital bed.

Sebastian was not good with emotionally injured people. He never knew what to say, and either ended up being his usual abrasive self (which made it worse) or saying nothing at all in an attempt to keep from making it worse. The worst part was the look on Dave’s face when he recognized Sebastian. It was a mix of disappointment, anger, and disgust, before Dave pointedly looked away.

A soft “hi” was all Sebastian could manage. He stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him. Both hands clutched the flowers as a long moment of silence passed between them.

“What are you doing here?” Dave finally asked in obvious frustration.

Sebastian shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he thought he’d long outgrown. “I came to apologize.”

Dave sighed. “So apologize.”

 He smirked. He couldn’t help it, sliding back into his old self. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“Look, I really don’t want to talk to you, so could you just—“

Panic suddenly rose in Sebastian’s throat. He couldn’t just walk away, this was too important, even if Dave hated him (and rightfully so) he at least had to try. “Two minutes,” he cut in hastily. “Two minutes. Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave.”

Dave seemed a little startled by his outburst, but sighed heavily again anyway. “Fine. Two minutes.”

Sebastian took hesitant steps over to the side of the bed and weakly offered the flowers and bag. “My sister sent these for you. She’s. Um. She’s spent a lot of time in hospitals lately, and she knows how much it sucks.” Oh, shit, he sounded like a complete idiot, and this was the important part. The effort to say _I understand, you’re not alone, I’m really trying to help_. “So, um. She sent these.” He offered the bouquet—a mix of the palest pink and yellow roses he’d ever seen. They were so _girly_ , but coming from Sophie, they were just perfect. The gift bag, too, was pink, but that was only because it was the only one she’d had on hand. It had a John Grisham novel and some of Sophie’s favorite snacks. Her affinity for junk food was legendary, and she had thought Dave might appreciate it.

Dave looked him in the eye for the first time. There was a look that might have been gratitude in his eyes—just the faintest softening. He took the flowers and held them as gently as his big hands would allow, unsure of what to do with them. “Tell her I say thanks.”

“Yeah.” He put the bag on the bedside table. He was too nervous to stand anymore, so he went for the chair still positioned next to the bed. His long limbs felt awkward and fidgety. He covered for it by opening his bag and removing the file he had tucked carefully inside earlier. “And this is from me. I really suck at apologies, so this is the best I could do.”

Dave opened the file.  “What is this for?”

Sebastian leaned back, trying to mask his discomfort. “That would be an application to transfer to Dalton.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Look, I heard about what happened to you at school. And it sucks. But that won’t happen to you at Dalton. The guys there—it’s not perfect, but nothing like that would ever happen. And I’m going to guess, based on the fact that neither of your parents are here right now, that staying home isn’t going to be the greatest option. You can transfer mid-year, I asked. So just think about it, okay? Maybe it could help.”

Dave closed the file and leveled his gaze with Sebastian’s. “Why are you doing this?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, back on the defensive. “Court mandated community service. Look, that’s my two minutes, so I’ll go now. If you need help with the application, my number’s in there. I’m not saying I know people in admissions, but I’m not saying I don’t.” He rose from the chair and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I am, however, still in charge of the Warblers, so if by some great stroke of luck you do get in, let’s just say the waitlist has an open spot at the top. See you.”

He had already started for the door when Dave called after him. “Did you really come in here with flowers and a _pink_ gift bag?”

Sebastian stopped, turned, and flashed him a grin. “Yeah. I did. The perils of having a sister.”

Dave grinned. Sebastian had really swallowed his pride on that account—the bag was _really_ bright. It was even tied up with curly pink ribbon. Unforgivably girly.

“Tell her I say thanks. But I still don’t like you.”

Sebastian winked. “Can’t wait to see you in uniform, big guy.”

 

~~~~~~

 

**3**

Blaine lay in bed far longer than he should have, trying to recapture a really nice dream about him and Kurt in New York. Finally, he rolled over to check the time on his phone. He had a flurry of new messages, all of them from the Warblers, continuing the conversation from the previous night. He scrolled through them lazily, chuckling over Trent’s triumph and Sebastian’s flustered, seemingly scatterbrained attempts at conveying thanks, well wishes, and taunts between so many people.

Blaine missed the Warblers terribly. He knew, logically, that being a Warbler under Sebastian’s lead would have been terrible. And in his heart, he knew that transferring schools to be with Kurt was, while crazy, one of the best decisions he’d ever made. Still, he missed the tight camaraderie between the Warbler boys—the inside jokes, the gentle teasing, the easy way he could sit down and talk with any of them about anything. He loved the New Directions, really, but it just wasn’t the same.

Standing in the way, though, was Sebastian. Blaine wasn’t sure how he felt about the conversation they’d had last night. Sebastian had seemed almost desperate for Blaine’s forgiveness. Blaine had honestly expected that the Warbler would simply move on and forget about it, eventually, and that would be the end of it. But the apologies had still hung in the air between them, insurmountable.

Until last night, apparently.

Blaine groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He couldn’t possibly figure this mess out this early in the morning. At least not without a cup of coffee. He was struggling his way out of bed when his phone beeped.

 **Sebastian** : Hey. I’m not good at this. So. You know. Thanks.

Blaine _really_ needed that cup of coffee.

 

~~~~~

 

**4**

Note: Conversations formatted like this take place via message. The sender is in **bold.**

 **Unknown sender** : Hey. This is Dave. Found the note with your number. Thanks for sending the flowers and everything. That was really nice.

 **Sophie:** Hi Dave! You’re very welcome. How are you doing?

 **Dave** : Okay, I guess. Came home two days ago.

 **Sophie** : That’s good. I hope it’s okay that my brother dropped by.

 **Dave** : It’s fine. He was actually sorta nice to me.

 **Sophie** : Good, then I won’t smack him.

 **Dave** : You still can. I’m not stopping you.

 **Sophie** : He’s probably done something to deserve it. Look, I gotta run—my dance class is about to start. But text me any time, okay?

 **Dave** : Okay. Thanks again.

 

~~~~

 

**5**

Two weeks had gone by without word from Sebastian, and Blaine had decided to pretend the entire incident didn’t happen. The fact that Sebastian had a twin sister—who, despite his efforts at covering it up, he clearly adored—didn’t make him seem more human. It didn’t make him seem more capable of love. It certainly didn’t make him a good person, or in any way attractive.

He had almost managed to stop thinking about it completely.

He and Kurt had taken over a table at the Lima Bean that late August afternoon. Kurt had been working on writing a résumé and sending it to every theatre company in the state, which wasn’t many, but it gave him something to do. Blaine admired this about Kurt—the ability to get horrible news and simply grit his teeth and make the best of it. “Maybe a year off is exactly what I need,” he’d said one day as they lay together in Kurt’s bed, legs and arms lazily tangled. “There are some theatres around. One of them must need an intern to do _something_.”

So there they were, cups of coffee and papers scattered around them. Kurt was researching a small theatre in Columbus (“They do Shakespeare!”) while Blaine edited his résumé.

“Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine looked up into the face of the girl who had addressed him. She was tall, with the lean frame of a dancer, emphasized by a softly draped pale blue dress. Her chestnut brown hair fell in soft curls down to her waist. But what was really amazing—and startlingly familiar—were her brilliant green eyes. Blaine knew he had seen eyes like them before but couldn’t place exactly where. It was unnerving.

“Hi. I’m so sorry—you seem really familiar. Have we met?”

The girl grinned. “Not officially, we haven’t. But I get that a lot.” She turned to Kurt, who was looking between them with confusion clear on his face. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re Kurt.”

Kurt politely reached out a hand, which the girl took. Her skin was amazingly peaches and cream pale. A delicate gold bangle encircled her wrist. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

She winked. “That’s because I hadn’t given it yet. I’m Sophie.”

Kurt should have felt a little put off by the remark, but she had such a cute, mischievous smile that he couldn’t help liking her a little. “Do we know you from somewhere?”

“You don’t, no. But you do know my brother. Sebastian Smythe? We’re twins, that’s why I look so familiar.”

Once Blaine knew, the resemblance really was uncanny. Minus the obvious differences (Sophie being a girl, with small gentle curves, and slightly shorter than her brother) she and Sebastian looked almost exactly alike. Same long, lean build. Same angular face. Same scattering of freckles across her cheekbones and down her neck. She was like a softer version of Sebastian.

She let the revelation hang in the air and sink in for a minute. Kurt stared at her in open shock. “Oh my god, he has a twin? As in, there’s more than one of him?”

Blaine could have laughed, hearing Kurt repeat the same thing he’d said to Trent only a few weeks ago, but knew it would open up a very awkward conversation.

“I take it he never mentioned he has a sister?” she asked, still grinning because she knew the answer.

“We just sort of assumed he’d spawned directly out of Hell, full grown and full of evil.”

Blaine’s eyebrows went up at Kurt’s really rude insult. That was going too far, especially just after meeting Sophie.

To their surprise, Sophie just let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, I’m going to _like_ you. Do you mind if I sit? I just had surgery a few weeks ago and my knee is killing me.” She gestured to her right knee and Blaine noticed the medical grade, hinged brace for the first time. It seemed so incongruous on her slim, pale legs.

“Oh my god, I didn’t notice, I’m sorry, here let me—“ Blaine jumped up and pulled out the third chair at the table for her. She sat and gave him a grateful smile. Kurt looked a little perturbed at having her there, but didn’t say anything.

“So he really never mentioned me?” Sophie asked once she was settled.

Blaine swallowed hard. He had two choices: lie to her and say no, he’d never known she existed, as his chats with Sebastian had never veered into their personal lives, or admit that yes, she’d been mentioned in conversation, and have another argument with Kurt about it later, digging up the past.

“No, we never really—“

“We’re not exactly _friends_ with your brother,” Kurt interrupted. Blaine didn’t like the icy tone that had taken over his boyfriend’s voice.

Sophie barreled on, either missing the unfriendliness or choosing to ignore it. “He has two sisters, actually. Me and an older sister. And a niece. She’s two. Though I’m not surprised he wouldn’t mention them. Anyway, the real reason I wanted to talk to you—I’ve been asked, on behalf of the Warblers, to invite you both to the first rehearsal of the year.”

A very awkward, confused pause followed her statement. She looked back and forth between them, hoping for an answer. When she got nothing, she simply continued. “It won’t be a big deal, since they wouldn’t have had auditions yet, and even if they had, I’m not able to do any serious choreography for a few more weeks. They’re kinda hopeless without me.”

Another pause. Still nothing. “My brother will be _conveniently_ busy with calculus homework, if that’s what you’re worried about. Look, the guys miss you both, alright? I hung out with them a lot last year, and it was Blaine Anderson this, Kurt Hummel that. Their loyalty to you is amazing to the point of being weird. It would be really nice if you could come by and hang out for the afternoon. That’s all they want, and that’s all they asked me to tell you.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Kurt replied slowly, to Sophie and Blaine at the same time.

Blaine opened his mouth to protest, but Sophie beat him to it. “Well. This has been incredibly awkward, so I’m gonna go. Nice meeting you both, sorry for interrupting.” She rose, using one hand on the table to push herself up. It was clear her knee hurt, but that she was muscling through the pain. She turned to walk away, then suddenly thought and turned back to the boys. “Oh, and Blaine? Do try to answer my brother’s texts every _once_ in a while.” Then she winked and left without another word.

Why oh why oh _why_ did she have to say that? With that knowing little wink? Sebastian hadn’t texted him in weeks, and even if he had, Blaine wouldn’t have responded. Probably. And now Kurt was going to think—

“Has he been texting you?” Kurt asked. The cool suspicion in his voice was torture.

Blaine decided to tell the truth. “He did. Yeah. He sent a mass text to the Warblers and I got included on it. It was a mistake.”

Okay, that was part of the truth.

Kurt took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be acting suspicious of you like that. It’s just—with everything going on, I’m not thinking clearly.”

“It’s okay.” Blaine reached across the table and squeezed Kurt’s hand. “I understand.”

They shared a soft smile, but Blaine felt guilty. After everything they’d been through—the first appearance of Sebastian, then Chandler, and everything in between—they’d come through it stronger by being honest with each other. But this time he’d actually lied about it. About something as harmless as a couple of texts. His stomach sank.

“Let’s just…” Kurt drifted off for a second, eyes skimming over his laptop screen. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stare at my laptop any more today or my eyes might fall out.”

 

~~~~

 

**6**

**Blaine** : You are like a relationship-ruining machine.

 **Sebastian** : I pride myself on that.

 **Sebastian:** Hi, by the way. Nice to hear from you.

 **Sebastian:** …What did I do this time? Just so I can brag about it.

 **Blaine** : I met your sister today.

 **Sebastian:** Oh. So that’s what she meant.

 **Blaine** : What did she say??  
 **Sebastian** : Nothing important. What did she do now?

 **Blaine** : She came up to me and Kurt at the Lima Bean

 **Blaine:** She told Kurt you were texting me

 **Blaine** : We are NOT talking. We are NOT friends.

 **Sebastian** : Yikes, wonderboy, chill the fuck out.

 **Blaine** : I CAN’T chill the fuck out

 **Blaine** : Now Kurt thinks I’m cheating on him

 **Blaine** : With YOU

 **Sebastian** : And how is this my fault?

 **Sebastian:** We’re texting each other, wonderboy

 **Sebastian:** Two-way street

 **Blaine** : I don’t want anything to do with you

 **Sebastian:** I didn’t text YOU tonight, B. I’ve talked to you twice in what—four months? Five?

 **Sebastian** : Don’t try to pin this on me.

 **Blaine** : Fuck you, Sebastian.

 **Sebastian:** With pleasure, killer. ;)

 

~~~~

 

**7**

Three nights later, Blaine was getting himself ready for the first day of his senior year. He’d never fully outgrown the desire to look nice on his first day, so it was taking him longer than usual to pick out his clothes. Kurt was helping (or trying to, anyway—Blaine would _never_ tell him that he was politely ignoring his every suggestion) over the phone.

“Kurt, it’s still _summer_. I really don’t think a cardigan is necessary.”

“Layers are always necessary, Blaine, haven’t you learned that yet?”

“Kurt, I really—“

He was suddenly interrupted by Kurt’s sudden squeal of “OHMYGOD,” so loud Blaine nearly dropped his phone.

“What?”

“I got an email! An email from one of the theatre companies! They want to interview me!”

“That’s great! Which one?”

“Constellation, in Columbus. They’re the ones doing _Sweeney Todd_. Ohmygod, Blaine. They want to interview me to be the costume designer!”

“Kurt, that’s great. I’m so happy for you. When’s the interview?”

There was a pause, probably Kurt scanning the email. “Thursday. Thursday afternoon, before they have rehearsal.”

“Wow, they’re not wasting any time, are they?”

“I don’t think they can. Rehearsals started earlier this week, apparently, and the show goes up in December.” Another pause. “Wow, that’s cutting it awfully close.”

Blaine chuckled. “Yeah, but you could handle it. I mean, you’ve seen the musical on youtube a dozen times, right? Don’t you know it by heart by now? I bet you could get the whole show designed in a week.”

Kurt sighed. “Your faith in me is amazing.”

“I can’t help it. It’s part of the job description.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So I should probably put together a portfolio, huh?”

Blaine laughed aloud at that remark. “Oh, please. I know you’ve had one prepared for months.”

Kurt laughed too. “Yeah. But do you wanna come over tomorrow anyway? Just to remind me how fantastic it is, so I don’t freak out?”

“Sure, I’ll come by after school.”

 

~~~~

 

**8**

**Dave** : So the bad news is I’ve missed so much school I can’t graduate

 **Sebastian** : WHAT? Are you serious?

 **Dave** : I really wish I was joking

 **Dave** : This really sucks

 **Sebastian** : They won’t make an exception? I mean, extenuating circumstances and all

 **Sebastian** : Fucking public schools. I know you’re sick of me asking if I can help, but can I??

 **Dave** : No. I tried everything. And honestly, I really don’t wanna go back there

 **Dave** : So I either get to not finish high school or repeat my senior year

 **Sebastian** : That really sucks

 **Dave** : Well thankfully this complete jackass I know gave me an application to another school.

 **Sebastian** : Oh fuck yeah

 **Dave:** Think I have a shot? My grades aren’t really good.

 **Dave** : And you know the whole super senior thing.

 **Sebastian** : Have I mentioned I know people in admissions? Just say the word.

 **Dave** : Don’t do me any favors. I mean it. I don’t want to think of what I would owe you.

 **Sebastian** : Oh yes you do.

 **Sebastian** : Let me know if you need help with that app, big guy.

 

~~~~

 

**9**

Warnings: Bullying, homophobia, fighting.

The first time Sophie and Sebastian had a fight—a real, honest to God, knock down, drag out fight that left bruises and scrapes—they were eleven. Middle school was upon them. Sebastian had just started to get tall and was all limbs and awkward knees, but Sophie was still tiny—child sized, really. She wouldn’t break the hundred pound mark for a while yet.

Despite the fact that he was taller than almost all the other boys in his class, Sebastian had been getting picked on at school.

No, he’d been getting the shit kicked out of him. That was closer to the truth.

Somehow—and he never figured out how—he’d been designated “gay.” And that was the end of it for him, apparently. He’d sort of wondered about it for a while and the faint ring of truth in the accusation took all the fight out of him. So when the first group of boys decided he was in for a beating, he didn’t know what to do and ended up with one eye swollen shut. Sophie had been on the other side of the building and only found out when she got sent to detention an hour later. There he was, sitting on the bench outside the principal’s office, his short torn and his nose bloody, his eye closing in on itself.

She didn’t say anything. She never, in those kinds of moments, said anything. She simply turned on one heel, marched to the nurse and returned with an ice pack. She was rough when she yanked at his open hand, placed the ice pack in it, and pressed it to his face, as if she were trying to make him flinch. They stood there, for a minute, silent, Sophie’s tiny hands half covering his and holding the ice pack in place. Then she leaned over, kissed the top of his head, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

She did the same thing when it happened again two weeks later. She carefully bandaged the long, bloody scrapes on his arms, held ice to his eye, and mopped the blood from his nose, all without saying a word.

When the bruises all healed, though, something changed.

He was sitting outside on the back porch with a book, enjoying the warm spring sun on his face. He lived for the small, peaceful moments outside of school, where he didn’t have to fight or constantly watch his back.

Sophie stood in front of him, not quite tall enough to block the sun.

“Stand up.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her in disbelief. He’d never heard her voice so commanding before. Most days she barely spoke above a whisper.

“I said stand up.”

He put his book down and stood, arms crossed over his chest. He towered over her. She put her hands on her hips, the aggressiveness of her stance contrasting with her tiny frame.

“Why don’t you fight back?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this, Soph.”

“Answer me. Why don’t you fight back?”

Then she shoved him. She had to reach to hit his shoulders, but she was already strong from dancing and gymnastics and it knocked him clean over, mostly from the surprise. He was too shocked to do anything when she jumped on him, a fist already drawn back to land a clean punch on his cheekbone. He saw stars. It _hurt_. She kept swinging at him, ruthless, landing punches on his face and shoulders and then his arms when he brought them up to cover his face. She was screaming at him and he found suddenly that he was screaming too, curses and insults that made no sense.

Then something snapped, and he punched her back.

It knocked her off balance and she rolled backwards, landing on her elbows, and he was on top of her, pinning her down and hitting her, hard, harder than he ever thought he’d dare. They fought, pulling each other’s clothes, getting the upper hand and losing it again, knees digging into the ground and fists and nails connecting with skin over and over.

He was crying, then, through the screamed insults. Tears flowed freely, catching in the dirt and flecks of blood on his face. Sobs shook him and he stopped, dropping his fists to his side, then curled up in a ball on the grass, unable to lift his arms to take another swing.

He didn’t hear Sophie moving, but there she was, curling up next to him, her legs under his, her arms around his shoulders and head, holding him. He turned and sobbed into the front of her dirty shirt and wrapped his arms around her waist. They sat there for what felt like ages, Sebastian sobbing inconsolably and Sophie shushing him, petting his hair and kissing his forehead.

When he’d finally calmed down enough to listen, Sophie finally spoke in her whisper voice. “Seb. I don’t care who you are. Gay or straight. You’re my big brother and I love you. And when somebody picks on you—they try to fight you or they insult you—I want you to fight them. Fight as hard as you can. And they’ll never hurt you again.”

They’d gone inside then and sat in the bathroom for nearly an hour, cleaning and bandaging each other’s scrapes, holding ice to each other’s bruised faces. Finally, Sophie placed a pink Hello Kitty band-aid across the bridge of his nose (where he didn’t even have a scrape), grinned, ruffled his hair, and left.

Two days later one of his tormentors came at him and Sebastian knocked him flat on his ass with a punch in the nose.


	2. Chapter 2

**No warnings for this chapter.**

 

**10**

It took _hours_ , but Kurt and Blaine finally managed to put Kurt’s portfolio together for his interview. It had been silly. At one point, every single piece had been pulled from the folder and laid out in a huge grid across the floor, and yet, by the time they got it all back into place, it had barely changed, with maybe two or three pieces in a different order.

Blaine had always known that Kurt was a talented artist, but he hadn’t seen some of the pieces before, and they stunned him. Kurt had done an entire series of designs for the play _Lady Windermere’s Fan_ where every inch of the costume was rendered in exquisite detail, some of the lines almost too fine to be real. Kurt used a combination of gouache paints and soft colored pencil that gave the renderings depth and texture. Blaine had found himself staring at some of the pages, getting lost in the tiny details of lace and beads.

“You’re _so_ going to get this job.”

Kurt laughed and gently pulled a rendering of _Alice in Wonderland’s_ Queen of Hearts from his hand to put it back in the clear plastic pages of his portfolio. “And what makes you say that?”

“Are you serious? Look at these.” He picked up a rendering of Lady Windermere. “You’re _amazing_. I mean, I knew you could draw, and design, but this—this isn’t just a design, this is _art._ ”

Kurt laughed again, softer this time, and Blaine handed over the paper so it could be filed. It was the last piece. Kurt closed the portfolio—which was a standard, black artist’s portfolio on which he had painted a complicated, swirling design in white paint, working his name into the center of the cover so that it looked like part of the artwork. He looked down at his hands for a second before murmuring, “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“No, I really do.” Kurt was still staring at his portfolio. “After I was so suspicious of you the other day—god, Blaine, I almost accused you of _cheating_ on me. And now you’re here, telling me how amazing I am, like nothing happened.”

Blaine leaned over and took Kurt’s hands. “That’s because nothing happened, Kurt. You didn’t accuse me of anything. You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Kurt, please.” He lifted Kurt’s chin gently so their eyes met. “It’s okay. It was nothing. I love you. That’s what matters.”

He leaned in to kiss Kurt softly, one hand on Kurt’s cheek. Kurt’s hands drifted around his waist, then, to Blaine’s surprise, pulled him roughly forward so that he was straddling Kurt’s lap. For a while, everything else was forgotten in the warm press of lips and tongue.

They loved each other. That was all that mattered.

 

~~~~~

 

**11**

Note: Conversations formatted like this take place via text message. The sender is in **bold**.

 **Blaine:** I’m sorry for yelling at you last night.

 **Blaine:**  It was really unfair of me to accuse you of anything.

**Blaine:** I guess you’re asleep.

~~~~

**12**

Blaine woke up the next day half-expecting a text from Sebastian, but there was nothing. He didn’t allow himself to feel disappointed as he swung his legs out of bed. He didn’t allow himself to feel ignored as he got dressed. And he definitely didn’t allow his mind to wander as he brushed his teeth.

His phone finally beeped as he walked out the door.

 **Kurt** : Good morning, my love! Good luck at school. First glee rehearsal, right?

 **Blaine** : Good morning :) Yes, finally I get back to glee! I’m so excited.

 **Kurt:** Aww, I’m so jealous. Tell everyone I say hi.

 **Blaine** : I will. I gotta go—gotta drive! Text you sometime later. Love you.

 **Kurt** : Love you too!

He checked his phone again when he finally parked at McKinley. Still nothing. He didn’t allow himself to feel disappointed.

 

~~~~

 

**13**

Thursday showed up before Blaine was really ready. There were two big events that afternoon—Kurt’s interview in Columbus and the first Warbler rehearsal at Dalton. For a while that morning, he sat on his bed, unable to start because he knew, at some point that day, he would have to decide what he was doing that afternoon.

Kurt had insisted that he didn’t need to go to the interview with him, didn’t need to drive him, didn’t need to pick him up afterwards. “Really,” he’d insisted on the night before. “I’m a big boy, I can do this.”

“But I want to be there to support you.”

“I know, and I love you for it. But I can handle this.”

Still, Blaine had the crazy fantasy of skipping his last class (Spanish, which he would hardly suffer for missing), driving over to Kurt’s house, picking him up, and driving him to his interview. He imagined them singing at the top of their lungs like they always had on the way to and from school.

He also imagined strolling casually into Warbler’s practice. He could imagine the guys hugging him and slapping his back just like the old days.

It wasn’t until he got in his car just after 3pm that he decided what he was going to do. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and sent Kurt a text.

 **Blaine** : Just wanted to say good luck at your interview! You’re going to be amazing! Love you :)

It was over an hour and a half to drive to Dalton, but Blaine knew he had time. Warbler practice officially started at five and often didn’t get _really_ started until closer to five thirty, so he didn’t rush. He sang in the car on the way there, loud and energetic, dancing by himself at stoplights like a complete idiot.

He was really early, so he sat in his car in the Dalton parking lot for a few minutes, trying to avoid checking his phone. He lasted about ten seconds before he gave in.

There was a message from Kurt, of course (“Thanks! Text you when I’m done!”), and a few from Warblers (“Please tell me you’re coming to practice” from Trent, “Blaaaaaaaaine I miss youuuuuu” from Jeff) and one from an unknown number.

 **Unknown sender** : Hi, it’s Sophie. Stole your number from Seb’s phone. Are you coming?

He quickly sent her a reply.

 **Blaine:** I’m actually outside. I drove all the way here, so I should probably come inside, huh?

 **Sophie** : Yes. Come inside, dumbass! Everyone is here.

 **Blaine:** Jeez, you and Sebastian really ARE related.

 **Sophie** : Come inside, dammit.

 **Blaine** : Ask nicely.

 **Sophie** : Come inside, PLEASE, dammit.

He figured it was best to listen to her, so he strolled inside, trying to be casual. Dalton was so familiar—he would find his way to the practice room even if he’d been blindfolded—and suddenly so alien. He’d only been by a few times since the transfer, notably the day he’d walked into a rehearsal of “Uptown Girl.” Wow, that had been almost a year ago.

The doors to the practice room were closed, but he could hear voices carrying well into the hallway. Trent was yelling something, Jeff laughing hysterically. A couple voices he didn’t recognize rose up too, yelling and laughing.

He took a deep breath-- _here goes nothing_ —and swung the door open.

“Excuse me, but I seem to be lost. I hear the Warblers are practicing somewhere around here?”

He got about three steps in the door before Jeff tackled him.

 

~~~~

 

 **14:** Summer after junior year

 **Dave** : So I got my letter.

 **Sebastian:** Oh yeah? What’s it say?

 **Dave:** I don’t know.

 **Sebastian:** You haven’t opened it?

 **Dave:** I’m nervous.

 **Dave** : Don’t make fun of me.

 **Sebastian:** I’m not. You seriously haven’t opened it?

 **Dave:** Not yet.

 **Sebastian:** Well what the fuck are you waiting for?

 **Sebastian:** I’ll make you a deal.

 **Dave:** I’m not sure I want you to.

 **Sebastian:** If you get in, I’ll give you a blowjob.

 **Dave:** Thanks, but I’ll pass.

 **Sebastian:** You don’t know what you’re missing.

 **Dave:** I’m sure it will haunt me for the rest of my life.

 **Sebastian:** Fuck you. What does it say??

 **Dave:** I got in.

 **Sebastian:** Fuck yeah

 **Dave:** And I got a scholarship.

 **Sebastian:** Seems I owe you a blowjob.

 **Dave:** Still gonna pass, but thanks all the same.

 **Sebastian:** Your loss. But seriously, I’m really happy for you.

 **Dave:** Thanks.

 **Dave** : So does this mean I have to put up with seeing you now?

 **Sebastian:** You love me

 **Dave:** Whatever you say.

 

~~~~

 

**15**

Blaine was nearly knocked over when Jeff full-on rugby tackled him. Good God, when had Jeff gotten so _strong_? Blaine still thought of him as the skinny, shy freshman he’d been when they’d met, so who the hell was this tall, broad-shouldered guy lifting him off his feet?

“Blaine! Blaine! You’re here! I can’t believe you’re here!”

Blaine laughed despite the crushing pressure of Jeff’s arms around his chest. “Jeff! Put me down! This hurts!”

Jeff abruptly dropped him to the floor and his hands flew to his face. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m just so happy to see you!”

Blaine straightened his shirt, still laughing. “Well hi, everyone.”

As if they had been waiting for a signal, five familiar Warblers swarmed him in a mess of hugs, back slapping, and ‘welcome backs.’ Wes and Thad both gave him “bro hugs”—slapping their hands together, bumping shoulders, and thumping him on the back. Nick and David both hugged him. Trent, meanwhile, gave him a squeeze and lifted him off the floor for a second. Then there were introductions to the new guys—at least seven new faces had joined the Warblers the previous year, and he knew there would be more.

He was introduced to Sophie last. She had taken over the couch, her leg propped up on an ottoman. She wore a Crawford Country Day school uniform that somehow looked flattering on her thin frame. The hinged brace was replaced by a slim, black sleeve with a few straps wound tightly around her leg. When she saw him, she gave a knowing smirk and opened her arms for a hug.

“Hey, Sophie,” he greeted her as she planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey Blaine. Forgive me for not getting up, but this knee is making things a little difficult lately.”

“Not a problem.”

Trent dropped down on the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “So….This means you’re coming back to Dalton this time, right?”

He felt, rather than saw, the other Warblers leaning forward in anticipation. “Sorry, but I’m still staying at McKinley.”

Trent was noticeably disappointed. “But Blaine…we really _need_ you.”

“I could teach you how to dance,” Sophie offered. “And not like New Directions dance either. Really dance.” Trent poked her in the ribs—gently, though, in a way Blaine saw was affectionate. “Sorry. I live with Sebastian,” she added by way of explanation. “Being a snarky bitch is sorta part of the game.”

“Anyway,” Nick interrupted smoothly, “what our two resident idiots are _trying_ to say is, this means you’re coming back to the Warblers, right? Cause if you’re just here to tease us, that would suck.”

Blaine tried to chuckle, but he found he was blushing under the intense scrutiny of his former teammates. “Sorry, guys. But McKinley is kinda my home now.”

Nick looked disappointed. “That sucks. I mean, I’m happy for you, but it sucks. At least you’re here now, right?”

Jeff laughed. “We’ll kidnap you next time.”

 

~~~~

 

**16**

Two hours flew by in a rush. The Warblers hadn’t yet held auditions, and with only half a team they weren’t yet ready to pick their songs for sectionals. That didn’t keep some of the guys from lobbying for their favorites—Blaine actually liked Nick’s suggestion that they do more Billy Joel (“Seriously, guys. ‘For the Longest Time’ is _classic_ , and all of us could rock it like it’s never been rocked before”) but was a little less thrilled with some of Trent’s ideas (some of which he hoped were made in jest, because _really_?). They had, of course, sworn Blaine to absolute secrecy.

It was loud, chaotic, and fun, just like it had always been. He sat on the other end of the couch from Trent and Sophie, who alternated quiet conversations between themselves with yelling at the other boys (Trent) and gently teasing Jeff’s dance moves (Sophie). At one point, Jeff reached out his hands to Sophie, trying to pull her up so they could dance together. She protested, pointing to her knee.

“Jeffy, baby, I can barely walk around. I can’t keep up with your crazy ass.”

Jeff pouted and grabbed Nick, who had until that moment been perched on the arm of the couch, talking with Blaine. “Nick. Dance with me.”

“Jeff, what are you—“

Jeff pointed a finger in Nick’s face—blindly, because he was focused on the iPod in his other hand, and he nearly stabbed Nick in the eye—and started a song. The little external speakers on the iPod blasted the opening bars of the Maroon 5 song “Payphone.” Jeff led Nick with a big grin—grooving along slowly at first, then suddenly picking up. Jeff’s footwork had always been good, but he had substantially improved in the last year and Blaine was impressed.

Jeff’s self-consciousness dropped completely away when the chorus started. He was really into it, and he had a great ‘don’t give a fuck cause I look awesome’ attitude. Nick tried to keep up but settled for just having a blast and letting Jeff do his thing. Just before the second chorus, Trent joined in. It worked. It worked _really_ well. Everyone in the room noticed and they watched, rapt, until the song ended and they applauded, loudly, shouting and congratulating Jeff, who blushed right to the tips of his ears.

Sophie threw her arms up with unrestrained joy. “My work here is done,” she declared. “Jeffy,

darling, you don’t need me anymore. You’ve become a beautiful butterfly.”

He laughed and leaned in for a hug. “Aww, Soph, we’re always gonna need you.”

“I know,” she responded with a giggle and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

Blaine raised an eyebrow and was tempted to say something when he saw Nick’s face. The brunet was staring at them, his expression absolutely tragic.

Well, _that_ was interesting.

Conversation had just begun buzzing around the room again when he heard the door open behind him. All the boys turned, curious to see who the latecomer was.

It was Sebastian. He’d changed out of his uniform and was wearing a simple pair of skinny jeans and a green polo shirt. His hair was a little mussed, like he’d simply run a hand through it before walking out the door. His swagger, though, was firmly in place.

“’Sup, guys?” he asked with a lopsided grin. “My sister still here somewhere?”

Sophie waved over the top of the couch. She’d slumped down a little, leaning her head on Trent’s shoulder, and was barely visible from where Sebastian stood. He walked around to her, jingling a set of car keys in one hand. “C’mon, kid, time to go. Untangle yourself from all your boyfriends.”

“Oh, hush,” she retorted, standing with only a little obvious difficulty. “You’re just jealous that they asked me to be here and not you.”

“Sure I am. C’mon, I’ll drive you home. Let Trent off his leash for a couple hours.”

Trent stuck his tongue out at Sebastian, who winked back. It was then that he noticed Blaine. The look of surprise on his face was priceless, but he pulled it together quickly and gave Blaine a nod of acknowledgement before throwing an arm around his sister’s shoulder and leading her toward the door.

“Bye, boys,” she called over her shoulder with a fluttering finger wave before the door closed behind them.

 

~~~~

 

**17**

Blaine waited ten minutes or so before extricating himself from the group, insisting that he had half an hour to drive home and yes, his teachers had already given him homework to do. He exchanged hugs with his friends and even a couple of the newer boys, promising to return again soon.

When he got out to his car, he realized he hadn’t checked his phone the entire time he’d been at Dalton.

 **Kurt (6:02pm)** : Just got out of my interview! It went amazing! They’re such cool people. They gave me a tour of the entire space. It’s tiny, but nice. Met the guy playing Sweeney—can’t wait to dress him.

 **Kurt (6:45pm)** : Where are you?

 **Kurt (7:15pm)** : Text me whenever, I guess.

He sat in the driver’s seat and quickly typed out his response.

 **Blaine** : Sorry sorry sorry! I went to Warblers practice to see the guys. Just managed to get away now—was scared they were gonna keep me!

 **Kurt** : There you are! How was everyone?

 **Blaine** : Everyone is great. Nick, Jeff, Thad, Wes, and Trent are still there. You should see Jeff’s new dance moves!

 **Kurt** : Sounds like fun. You on your way home?

 **Blaine** : Will be in just a second. Call you when I get back. LY.

 **Kurt** : LY2.

 

~~~~

 

 **18** : Late summer after junior year

 **Sebastian** : So how are we celebrating?

 **Dave:** Celebrating what?

 **Sebastian** : Your acceptance to Dalton, obviously.

 **Dave:** I don’t know

 **Dave** : I know your style of celebrating

 **Dave** : Not really what I’m in to.

 **Sebastian** : Oh don’t play shy on me now, big guy

 **Dave:** I don’t really feel like celebrating

 **Sebastian** : What?? Blasphemy!

 **Dave:** Dude, I’m serious. Things kinda suck at home right now.

 **Sebastian** : Oh. Sorry.

 **Dave:** Whatever

 **Sebastian** : Need rescuing? I have a fast car, a fake i.d., and time to kill.

 **Dave:** Didn’t peg you for the knight in shining armor type.

 **Sebastian** : Oh, I’m most definitely not.

 **Dave:** I’ll pass. But thanks just the same.

 **Sebastian** : You know, one of these days you won’t be able to resist my charms any longer.

 **Dave** : And when that day comes, I’ll move out of state.

 **Sebastian** : Ouch, touché.

 

~~~~

 

**19**

Blaine called Kurt when he finally got home and they talked right until midnight, when Blaine had drifted off to sleep, phone still held to his ear. The interview had gone incredibly well. The director and one of the producers had chatted Kurt up for almost two hours, discussing their vision for the production, the atmosphere they wanted the costumes to convey, and the strict time and funding limits they were working under. They had given him a full tour of the space (tiny, and cramped, with almost no room to get any sewing done except in the aisles of the audience, which Kurt found exhilarating and nerve wracking) and introduced him to the actors playing Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett. Kurt had been blown away by everyone’s charm, kindness, and open admiration of his artistic skill.

The interview had not, unfortunately, ended with a job offer, but a promise to contact him as soon as possible. They were very honest about the fact that they had three other applicants for the job, but Kurt wasn’t letting that get him down.

Blaine was thrilled for his boyfriend. The job wouldn’t pay (covering cost of materials and half his travel expenses, which would be considerable, was the best they could do), but it was a situation in which he knew Kurt would thrive. Kurt functioned best with a deadline, and the show would allow him to let his tastes run as free as they could in that limited timeframe. It would be stressful, since he’d have only one assistant (whoever he could bribe into operating a sewing machine), but Blaine had promised over and over again to do everything he could to help.

Finally, after talking for almost two hours, they lay in comfortable silence, an hour away from each other but connected by the sound of each other’s breathing through the phone.

“I’m so proud of you,” Blaine murmured.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings for this chapter: Fighting, mentions of past bullying**

 

 

 **Lay my Tongue Upon Your Scars:** **20**

Note: Conversations formatted like this take place via text message. The sender is in **bold**.

 **Sebastian:** ‘Sup, killer?

 **Sebastian:** Nice of you to drop by Warbler practice yesterday.

 **Blaine:** I think your sister would have hunted me down if I didn’t.

 **Sebastian:** Sophie? She’s harmless.

 **Blaine:** Nothing related to you is harmless, Sebastian.

 **Sebastian:** What’s bugging you today, B? Your wife still having a fit because of our little chats?

 **Blaine:** My relationship is none of your business.

 **Sebastian:** Wow, bitchy tonight!

 **Sebastian:** Come on, B, lighten up.

 **Sebastian** : Fine, be that way.

 

~~~~~

 

 **21:** First day of senior year

Dave hauled his duffel bag up the stairs and down the hall. His father walked beside him in uncomfortable silence, holding another bag. That was almost everything he’d brought with him. He hadn’t wanted to keep much, and the things he left behind were packed away, in the tacit agreement that he probably wouldn’t be coming home very often.

Other boys were moving in. All the doors were open, with boys yelling to each other. Someone was blasting music. He counted up the numbers. 428. 430. 432. 434. He stopped outside 436 and took a deep breath before entering the doorway and raising a hand to knock.

He stopped dead when he looked inside. Sebastian was in there, hands full of books, facing one of the two beds. A young woman was sitting on the other, tossing a lacrosse ball from hand to hand. Her knee was bandaged and crutches leaned against the headboard. They were both laughing.

He must have finally caught Sebastian’s eye, because the boy turned to face him. His face broke into a huge grin. “Oh, no _way_.”

Sebastian tossed the books down on the bed and pulled Dave, who didn’t know what to do, into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Dave,” he said.

“Yeah…hey.” This was weird. Not only was Sebastian—who he still didn’t like, despite his recent attempts to be nice—his _roommate_ , but this whole nice act was really over the top.

Dave’s father cleared his throat. Sebastian, who clearly couldn’t recognize an awkward situation when it happened, extended a hand with a grin. “Hi, I’m Sebastian. That’s my twin sister Sophie.” He pointed over his shoulder at the girl, who waved and smiled. “She won’t be here much, she just insisted on helping me move in.”

Sebastian stepped into the room to let them in as Sophie giggled. “Conveniently, I’m recovering from ACL surgery and can’t lift anything heavy. Hi, Dave. Good to finally see you in person.”

He managed a weak grin and an even weaker “Hey, Sophie” as he stood awkwardly in the center of the room. Oh god, it was _awkward_.

Sophie suddenly realized where she was sitting. “Oh my god, I’m on _your_ bed, aren’t I? Sorry! Here, let me—“ She reached for her crutches and started to scoot herself forward.

“No, it’s okay.”

Dave’s father dropped the bag he was carrying on the floor. “I’ll go get the last bag from the car.”

“Okay.”

They stood in silence for a moment after Dave’s father left. Sophie looked at Dave with concern and scooted forward on the bed, grabbing his empty hand in both of hers.

Sebastian hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” he responded, looking at his shoes to avoid the two pairs of green eyes fixed on him. “Just. Please.”

“I’m not…” Sebastian sighed and withdrew his hand. “I’m not trying to. Sorry.”

Sophie squeezed Dave’s hand and he gave her a small, grateful smile and squeezed back.

“Sucks that you have to live with my brother. I mean, on top of being a _complete_ and _unrepentant_ jackass, he snores.”

Sebastian laughed as he threw a few books on his desk. “I do _not_ , Sophie.”

“Oh, he does,” she insisted to Dave, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. He couldn’t help but return the grin. “It could be worse though. He used to sleepwalk. Fell down the stairs once when we were kids.”

All three of them were laughing by the time Dave’s father returned with the last bag.

 

~~~~

 

**22**

The theatre company emailed Kurt two days later and he immediately forwarded it to Blaine with a quick message full of exclamation points and smiley faces.

“Dear potential designers,

Hello! Thank you so much for coming and interviewing with us. We here at Constellation were blown away by your talent.

Unfortunately for us, the three of you are so incredibly talented that we couldn’t choose between you! So, we have a challenge. We want each of you to submit one rendering for the show to us. It can be any character at any point in the show, in whatever style you normally use. You have until midnight on Sunday. Break a leg!

With much love,

The Constellation Team”

Blaine dialed Kurt as soon as he finished reading it. “Hey!”

“Blaine! Hey! Oh my god, can you believe it?”

“I know! It’s fantastic. You can get this, Kurt.”

“Which character do you think I should draw? Oh my god, I haven’t even thought about it yet. Would going for Sweeney be too obvious? I mean, I’m really good at menswear but I could do so much for Mrs. Lovett.”

Kurt continued on and on and Blaine was content to just sit back and listen to him for a few minutes. Kurt liked to talk through his panic, letting his words out in a great big torrent as his mouth struggled to keep up with his head. It was exactly the opposite of how Blaine dealt with things, which was to quiet himself down so he could think. Kurt thought best while he was speaking, and Blaine found very early on that he didn’t mind listening, which made him the perfect soundboard for Kurt’s ideas.

Suddenly it came to him. “Why don’t you design something for Johanna?”

“Johanna? But she’s….so…”

“She’s perfect!” Blaine sat upright with the very force of the thoughts spinning through his head. “You’re so good at going dark and intense, with all the layers and zippers and big patterns you like to put on everything. But Johanna, she’s so sweet and pure. I mean, in such a grim show, to have this girl who is just all golden sunshine—it would really show off what you can do. Kurt, that would be _perfect_.”

“But I don’t really _do_ golden sunshine, Blaine. That’s kind of your department.”

“Well, I’ll help you then.”

“I don’t think you can. It’s supposed to be my design. Plus, I don’t have a lot of time to do this, and you have to be in school tomorrow…”

“So then listen to her song. She has a couple of songs, right, more than _Green Finch and Linnet Bird_? You said once that music really helped you work out your ideas.”

There was a pause, and for a second, he was afraid Kurt was silently rolling his eyes. “Blaine. You know me too well.”

He grinned. “Yeah, probably.”

“Alright. Well, I’m going to go listen to this soundtrack until I can’t anymore. You should probably go to bed sometime soon.”

He giggled. “Kurt, it’s ten thirty.”

“You need your beauty rest, Blaine.”

“Whatever you say. Love you.”

 

~~~~

 

 **23** : February, junior year

Warnings: Angst, fighting, mentions of past bullying.

The last time Sophie and Sebastian had a real fight was after the slushie incident. He hadn’t told her about it right away—he hadn’t thought it was that big a deal until he’d found out Blaine was hospitalized. Then, he felt too guilty.

Finally, late that night, he’d snuck out of his dorm and called her. She answered the phone on what felt like the tenth ring, mumbling “hello” in a sleepy voice he knew well from years of waking her up late at night.

“Soph?”

“Seb? What the hell, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Sophie…I think I really screwed up this time.”

They’d talked for almost an hour, and Sebastian felt like he’d been put through the wringer. She’d yelled. He’d yelled. He’d also cried, a little, as quietly as possible as if he could hide it from her. Mostly, though, they’d yelled at each other. Sophie had cursed him out terribly, berating him for being so awful, so selfish, so reckless, and he knew that he deserved every word. By the time she finally hung up on him he was exhausted. He really hoped that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

She’d come to Dalton the next day without warning. He’d been in his dorm, alone (Trent, who was his roommate at the time, was avoiding him completely) when she’d knocked. She didn’t announce herself, just opened the door and walked right in.

He stood up from his desk when she came striding in. “Soph, what’s up?”

She didn’t say a word, just grabbed one of his hands and slapped an ice pack in it.

“Soph, what’s this for—“

He was cut off when she punched him square in the face.

“OW! Jesus fucking Christ, Sophie, what the hell?”

She didn’t say a word, just grabbed the hand with the ice pack, slapped it to his face (making him wince, because did she really have to be so rough?) and shoving him back so he sat on his bed.

“That was to remind you of who you are.”

“Sophie, Jesus, what the—“

“Shut up. Shut up and listen to me. I’m fucking sick of you. I’m sick of this jackass routine you’ve been pulling all year. It’s not funny. You hurt somebody, Seb. You put somebody in the fucking _hospital_. A guy who never did anything bad to you or me or anybody else.”

“You made that very clear over the phone, you didn’t have to—“

“This was to remind you of who you are. That not too long ago you were a skinny kid getting the shit kicked out of you by a bunch of bullies. Well, Seb, when you hurt Blaine you became that bully and you stopped being the brother I love. This was the only way I know to get through your thick skull and make you listen to me.” She’d stopped shouting, and when she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and full of tears. “I love you, Seb. You’re my _brother_. But it’s not the same anymore. And after this—you’re nothing like the brother I love. I don’t know what happened to him, but you’re not him anymore.”

“Sophie,” he implored her, trying to reach for her hand, but she stepped back out of arm’s reach. Her eyes were full of tears, which she wiped away roughly.

“Goodbye, Seb.”

She turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Sebastian sat for a long time, paralyzed, the ice pack slowly thawing against his skin, dripping down his wrist. Finally, he lay down and pulled the blankets over his head, blocking out the world.

Hours later, Trent came back. He made no attempt to be quiet.

“Sebastian.”

Sebastian lay very still and pretended to be asleep. He did _not_ want to deal with it.

“Sebastian. I know you’re awake. Fucking get up. I need to talk to you.”

Sebastian growled and threw back the blankets, sitting up to level a glare at his roommate. Good God, his head hurt. Sophie must have hit him a lot harder than he thought.

Trent looked completely shocked. “Jesus. Sebastian, what happened?”

Oh _shit_ , it must look really bad. He raised a hand to his cheek. Just the faintest brush of his fingers on the swollen skin under his eye hurt like hell. “Is it really bad?” There was no reply—well, that must be his answer.

“Sebastian…what happened?”

“I had it coming, if it makes you feel any better.” He lay back down and buried his head under his pillow.

 

~~~~

 

 **24** : Junior year

Sebastian had never been particularly good at directing his anger. After his fight with Sophie, it was just him against the world. And he was going to take everyone down with him, if need be.

 

~~~~

 

**25**

**Sebastian** : Hey baby sis

 **Sophie** : Hey big bro

 **Sebastian** : I miss you already

 **Sophie** : Oh my god Seb

 **Sebastian** : What?

 **Sophie** : Fuck off

 **Sebastian** : But I miss you

 **Sophie** : I left your rehearsal twenty minutes ago

 **Sophie** : So shut the fuck up

 **Sebastian** : Love you little sis

 **Sophie** : Love you more

 

~~~~

 

**26**

Kurt had set up camp at the Lima Bean very early so that he could have the largest table. He knew a coffee shop was not the safest place to bring such an important work in progress, what with the risk of a rogue elbow spilling his coffee over five hours of work, but his house was no safer with Finn still around for one more week. He loved his stepbrother. Really, he did. But so help him, if Finn had even come near him with the giant bowl of cereal he devoured every morning, there would have been _chaos_.

He prepared the space very carefully. His box of colored pencils sat open on the chair next to him at easy reaching distance. His coffee was far enough away from the page that he could catch it if need be. The single sheet of black Bristol board sat at just the right angle. He’d even rolled his sleeves up (carefully) to avoid any smudging.

The rendering of Johanna was half done, but it was already coming together very nicely. He’d chosen to render her on a black background to contrast with her pale skin, golden hair, and leaf green dress. He had been up late carefully layering gouache watercolor on the paper, laying down a base of color for her skin, her hair, and her dress over which he would spend the day laying down detail in pencil. It was a time consuming technique (he knew most designers used only watercolor, but his hands weren’t _quite_ steady enough to get the fine detailing right) but he had the patience to create some really great effects.

He started at the top, with her hair and face, and those two features alone took nearly an hour. He wanted her hair to be perfect, since it was mentioned so many times in the show. He started with a base of flaxen blonde and with tiny, wavy strokes of a very sharp pencil (he used a razor blade, since sharpeners didn’t make the points fine enough) layered in bits of honey and gold colors so that it seemed to curl off the page. He used a paper stump to smudge just the faintest pink flush onto her cheeks and a slightly darker shade on her lips.

It was her eyes, though, that challenged him. Eyes were difficult, first of all, and then there was the color. Did he go for the typical sweet and innocent blue, which would be the obvious choice (honestly, why did the ingénue always have to be blue-eyed?) or did he pull one of the shades of green he was going to use for her dress? A green eye that matched her dress—not the whole dress, it was going to be too light of a color, but the same shade as some of the trim or a detail—would help unify the whole look.

He paused in his drawing. The light wasn’t good enough to judge the color, that was the problem with sitting at a window seat between the ever-shifting natural light and the god-awful fluorescent bulbs above him. To get a better look, he picked up the sheet of Bristol board and held it to the light.

It was promptly snatched right out of his hand by none other than Sebastian.

“What the—Sebastian! Give that back!”

Sebastian was completely unruffled. He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “Chill, Hummel, I’m not going to damage it.”

Kurt tried to get out of his seat but his leg had fallen asleep, making it a lot harder than it should have been. “Sebastian, that is _really_ important, and so help me God if you do anything to damage it—“

“Damn, Hummel.” Another pause as Sebastian sipped his coffee again. “You’re really _good_ at this.”

The unexpected compliment stopped Kurt completely. “I—what?”

Sebastian finally looked over the paper. “Explain to me why you’re not going to school for this?”

That was a compliment. From Sebastian. Kurt’s head spun for a second, but he was quickly overwhelmed with rage at the fact that Sebastian was handling a _very_ important drawing that he had spent _the entire night on_ and that was the only thing his brain had room for.

“Sebastian,” he began in the most measured tone he could manage. “Give that back.”

Sebastian dutifully handed the paper back to him. Once he had it securely positioned on the table, he turned his gaze back up to the tall Warbler, who seemed to be waiting for something.

“Now explain to me why the _hell_ you just complimented my work.”

Sebastian had the decency not to play confused. “Because it’s good.”

“I’m aware, but that’s beside the point, Sebastian. You’ve never said a single polite thing to me in the entire time we’ve known each other. And suddenly I’m supposed to just believe that you want to compliment me? I know you. More importantly, I know to watch out for you.”

He watched Sebastian take a deep breath and roll his eyes. He could actually _see_ the insult as Sebastian held it in. God, it was entertaining. “So I’m not allowed to have a change of heart?”

“No,” Kurt responded in complete deadpan. “No, you’re not.”

“Jesus Christ, Kurt,” Sebastian spat before sitting down in the empty chair across the table, clearly not caring that he _had not_ been invited. “I’m actually trying to be nice to you. Do you have any idea how hard that is when all I want to do is make a comment about the boots you’re wearing—which are ridiculous, by the way—or the fact that you seem to have stolen all your boyfriend’s hair gel to use _today_? Because it’s really, really hard.”

“And between the hair and the frat boy clothes, you’re one gold chain away from the Seaside Heights boardwalk. What’s your angle?” Well, there it was again—the same back and forth nastiness between the two of them. That was almost comfortable.

“Do I have to have an angle? Look, what I said about that ‘change of heart’ thing, while so cheesy it makes me feel sick, is true. And you’re my challenge for the day. If that drawing is for what I think it’s for, I have some advice that could help you. I am genuinely trying to be nice to you, Kurt Hummel. Take it or leave it.”

Kurt leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you think the drawing is for?”

“The production of _Sweeney Todd_ that the Constellation Theatre Company in Columbus is putting up in December. The girl playing Johanna is friends with my sister and one of the sophomore Warblers is playing Antony. He mentioned that they still hadn’t hired a costume designer yet. So I just put two and two together.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have to. You probably shouldn’t. But I’m telling the truth. The girl playing Johanna is named Diane. She’s got this horribly high-pitched speaking voice that could cut glass. But that sketch looks exactly like her. Have you met her?”

“No, not yet.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Then my word of advice to you is simple. You haven’t filled her eyes in yet. Diane has green eyes. Green eyes are rare, so when whoever runs that show sees your sketch, they’re either going to think you’re psychic or that you did your research. Either way, you’ve got the job.” He stood up then, grabbing his coffee. “See you.”

“Wait a second.” Sebastian paused, readying a quick insult as he always did. What Kurt said next surprised him. “Thanks. But I still don’t like you.”

Sebastian gave Kurt his best smirk. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”

 

~~~~

 

**27**

Blaine was half-asleep again after an hour on the phone with Kurt. They had hoped to be able to meet up after Blaine got out of school, but Kurt had had to make another interview around four, and it just hadn’t worked out, much to their mutual disappointment. It meant that they would probably have to wait until Sunday to see each other again, which they both agreed was _far_ too long.

So Kurt had called Blaine before bed as he always did and chatted on about how his rendering for _Sweeney Todd_ was coming along and his interview at the other theatre, which hadn’t gone as well. They hadn’t been as friendly or as receptive to his portfolio, which stung Kurt a little because his portfolio was fantastic. And then there was the persistent worry about getting the job working on _Sweeney_ —he was in competition with two other people he’d never met, so he had no idea what he was up against. What if they were more talented? They almost certainly had more experience than he did, which meant someone other than him would probably get hired…

Blaine was so tired. He was pacing around his room to keep awake, because he wanted to be there for Kurt, help him work through his stress, but all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot. You’ll never guess who I encountered today. Our _dear friend_ Sebastian.”

Blaine stopped dead in his tracks. He kept his voice as level as he possibly could, under the circumstances. “Really.”

“Yeah. I was working on my rendering at the Lima Bean, and he grabbed it right out of my hand.”

“Wait—he did _what_? He didn’t damage it, did he?”

“No, no, he didn’t. He actually…Complimented it. He complimented me. It was really weird.” He heard Kurt take a deep breath on the other end of the line. “I thought for sure he was going to try something, but then he told me he knows the girl playing Johanna. And he gave me advice.”

“Sebastian gave you advice. About your artwork.”

“Yeah. Blaine, it was so strange. I know you said he’s been trying to be nicer, but I really didn’t believe you until this afternoon. He was still sort of a jerk—he made a remark about my hair, and told me he wanted to make a remark about my boots—but then he said really nice things about the design, and told me a little about the girl playing Johanna, and I really don’t know what to make of it.”

Blaine shrugged before remembering that Kurt couldn’t see him. “Maybe he was really trying to be nice. Did you take his advice?”

There was a long pause. “I did.” It sounded like Kurt was speaking through gritted teeth. “But only because I’d already been thinking about doing what he said I should do.”

“Of course.”

“Well, more importantly, the rendering is almost done. I have a little more detailing to do before I send it in tomorrow.”

“That’s great. How do you feel about it?”

“Honestly? It looks _amazing_. I’m so going to get this job.”

Blaine chuckled. “Told you.”

“You sound really tired, Blaine. Want me to let you go to bed?”

He tried to silence a yawn and failed. “Sorry. It was a long day.”

“Go to sleep, babe. You need it. I’m gonna work a little on the jewelry and then turn in myself.”

“Send me a picture.”

“I will. Now go to sleep.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Blaine sat on his bed and ran a hand over his face. Oh _man_ , he was tired. But there was no way he was going to sleep now—not with Sebastian, once again, interfering with him and Kurt.

 **Blaine** : Remember when I apologized to you? I take the apology back. Stay away from Kurt. I mean it.

He didn’t expect a reply, so he lay down and grabbed his book. He would never admit it to Kurt, who had much higher taste in books, but he was re-reading Harry Potter again. He had just removed his bookmark when his phone buzzed.

 **Sebastian** : Lighten up, wonderboy. I was NICE to him. You should be thanking me.

 **Blaine** : Being nice to Kurt is MY job, seeing as he’s MY boyfriend. Stop messing with my relationship.

 **Sebastian** : Jesus fucking Christ Blaine

 **Sebastian** : I just can’t win with you, can I?

 **Sebastian** : I was really fucking nice to your boyfriend today. I didn’t even insult his clothes. Do you know how hard that is??

 **Sebastian** : I saw his artwork, and I liked it, so I said so. Hell, I even gave him some advice cause I happen to know the girl he was drawing.

 **Sebastian** : Which is a very fucking nice thing to do, which I didn’t have to do, cause I don’t owe him or you anything.

 **Sebastian** : So stop with the high and mighty bullshit. I’m going to bed.

Blaine turned off his phone and resisted throwing it across the room. God, Sebastian could be such a jackass. He lay back down and grabbed his book, but didn’t feel like reading any more.

The realization that he had let Sebastian ruin his mood sent his head spinning. He wasn’t supposed to feel _anything_ for Sebastian—not anger, not frustration, and certainly not the faint fondness he’d long ago developed when they were supposed to be friends. The fact that he felt anything was a problem. The fact that he felt frustrated at their lack of conversation was a _huge_ problem.

He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.

 

~~~~

 

**28**

Early on in the second week of classes, Dave and Sebastian had started falling into a type of routine. In short: they didn’t mess with each other. Sebastian was always out, either working with the Warblers or at lacrosse practice, and preferred to do his homework somewhere else, so he was never around. Dave spent a little time around the campus with a few of his classmates (including a few Warblers—he wasn’t sure if that was a coincidence or if Sebastian had said something to them. He really hoped he hadn’t) and he preferred to do his homework outside while the weather was still warm enough. It wasn’t that they were unfriendly. When their paths did cross, the conversations between them were pleasant but barely scratched the surface. They were both still trying to figure each other out, and both preferred to do so from a distance.

Sebastian was also a surprisingly early riser, so he was often up and gone by the time Dave got out of bed. The Wednesday of the second week, he was getting dressed in his uniform when he saw the post-it on his laptop.

“Warbler auditions tomorrow at 4. Prepare a song, verse and chorus at least. Ask Nick for help if you need.”

 

~~~~

 

**29**

Warnings: Super brief mention of past bullying.

 **Sophie** : So are you gonna audition or what?

 **Dave** : Sometimes I swear you and your brother are psychic and are just lying about it to lull us all into a false sense of security.

 **Sophie** : Not true, but thank you!

 **Dave** : And I don’t know

 **Sophie** : You should. The guys will love you

 **Dave** : But they’re all still friends with Kurt

 **Dave** : And I’m the guy who… well… you know.

 **Sophie** : Ancient history now

 **Sophie** : That’s not who you are any more.

 **Dave** : How are they supposed to trust me?

 **Sophie** : Dave, have you met you? You’re wonderful. Sure you made some mistakes in the past, but as soon as the guys get to know you, they’ll like you as much as I do.

 **Dave** : Do they know? About all of that stuff I did to Kurt?

 **Sophie** : To be totally honest? Some of them. I’m not sure how much, but a few of the guys who were around when Kurt transferred know at least some of it.

 **Dave** : Shit shit shit

 **Sophie** : Stop it.

 **Dave** : No, they’re gonna hate me.

 **Sophie** : No they won’t.

 **Sophie** : Okay, you can NEVER tell him I said this

 **Sophie** : But Sebastian has been talking about you—just a little—to the Warblers

 **Sophie** : They don’t know ALL the details, he insists it’s your story to tell and not his

 **Sophie** : But they know in a very general way that you transferred because of hostilities at your old school

 **Sophie** : And that you’ve had a rough time and are trying to turn things around by going to Dalton. He’s been telling them to give you a chance.

 **Sophie** : Please don’t be mad at him, he was only trying to help. He really wants to make things right with you.

 **Dave** : I’m not mad.

 **Dave** : I’m a little suspicious, actually.

 **Sophie** : Perfectly normal when it comes to my brother.

 **Dave** : So do you think I should try? With the Warblers I mean

 **Sophie** : Are we even really having this conversation?

 **Sophie** : YES!

 **Dave** : Okay…but I don’t know what I’d sing at my audition

 **Dave:** I’ve never auditioned for anything before

 **Sophie** : Well what do you like to listen to?

 **Dave** : I don’t know…classic rock and stuff.

 **Sophie** : Okay fine, you’re gonna make this difficult.

 **Sophie** : Answer with the first thing that pops into your head: What do you sing at the top of your lungs when you’re alone in the car?

 **Dave** : Springsteen

 **Sophie** : Holy shit that’s perfect

 **Dave** : What?

 **Sophie** : Do “Dancing in the Dark”

 **Dave:** No, too eighties

 **Sophie** : “Born in the USA”

 **Dave** : I’d like to be able to speak the next day.

 **Dave** : Also, seriously? Song’s about guys dying in Vietnam

 **Sophie** : You have a point. “Lonesome Day.”

 **Dave** : How do you know so much Springsteen?

 **Sophie** : Bruce is GOD, Dave.

 **Dave** : Truth.

 **Sophie** : So “Lonesome Day” it is then. Perfect song for you, by the way.

 **Dave** : But that’s….easier said than done.

 **Sophie** : Well you only have to do a little. Do the first two verses. You have 24 hours to practice

 **Sophie** : I can come over and help if you like

 **Dave** : No, that’s okay.

 **Sophie** : You can ask Sebastian for help

 **Dave** : NO

 **Sophie** : Okay. Who on the Warblers do you hang out with?

 **Dave** : The other seniors. Nick and that blond kid Jeff, mostly. Sometimes Trent.

 **Sophie** : Ask Nick to help you with the song, he’s fantastic and super patient. Jeff will always be willing to help if you have trouble keeping up with Warbler dancing.

 **Sophie** : And Trent is my hunny bunny, so if you need ANYTHING, ask and you shall receive.

 **Dave** : You’ve got all the Warblers under your thumb, don’t you?

 **Sophie** : I do. Perks of being a hot teenage girl.

 **Dave** : Glad I got on your good side.

 **Sophie** : You’d have gotten there eventually anyway. Now, go practice. Let me know if you need anything.

 **Dave** : Thanks.

 **Sophie** : Oh and that stuff about Sebastian stays between us

 **Dave** : No problem.

 

 **Dave** : You don’t have to answer this, but—you and Trent?

 **Sophie** : What about us?

 **Dave** : Are you like, together? Cause I thought he was…you know.

 **Sophie** : Gay as hell? You’d be right.

 **Dave** : Oh.

 **Sophie** : Get on that. And go practice!


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of Dave’s suicide attempt, some description of OC suicide attempt, and characters dealing with resulting trauma.**

 

**30**

Note: Conversations formatted like this take place via text message. The sender is in **bold**.

 **Jeff** : Sophie

 **Jeff** : Sophie

 **Jeff** : Sophiiiiiiiiiiiie

 **Sophie:** Jeffy

 **Jeff:** Come back to Daltoooooon

 **Sophie** : Honey, I am neither 1. a boy 2. able to pass for a boy 3. willing to try passing for a boy

 **Jeff** : But I need help choreographing “Payphone”

 **Sophie** : That is the flimsiest excuse I ever heard

 **Jeff** : It’s the truth

 **Jeff** : Okay, fine. I just want you.

 **Sophie** : Bullshit. Jeff, darling, I’m not playing this game with you

 **Sophie** : I adore you, you know that

 **Sophie** : And while I enjoy flirting with you at practice and making all the other boys jealous, we both know you’re lying when you say you want me.

 **Jeff** : Wow, that was a little more “brute” than “honesty.”

 **Sophie** : It’s called tough love, darling.

 **Sophie** : We both know who it is you really want. And I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t been having fun, and that I don’t wonder sometimes what it’d be like to get you in bed

 **Sophie** : I bet we’d break some furniture

 **Sophie** : But I see who you’re really looking at during rehearsal.

 **Jeff** : Don’t tell anyone

 **Sophie** : I won’t. But you should.

 **Jeff** : But I’m scared.

 **Sophie** : You know there are plenty of guys you could ask for advice

 **Jeff** : Yeah but…this place is such a rumor mill.

 **Sophie** : Oh god don’t I know it.

 **Sophie** : But seriously, you can talk to someone about it.

 **Sophie** : I’m not going anywhere, baby. Love you.

 **Jeff** : Love you too.

 **Jeff** : I’m almost afraid to ask, but…

 **Jeff** : Do you really think we’d be that good in bed together?

 **Sophie** : Oh honey

 **Sophie** : Your poor bed wouldn’t stand a chance.

 

~~~~

 

**31**

**Warnings: Mentions of Dave’s suicide attempt, some description of OC suicide attempt, angst.**

Sophie used to call Dalton rumor mill worse than the one she endured at Crawford (which was really saying something, because according to rumor she’d slept with the entire Dalton lacrosse team _at once_ ), and Sebastian had to admit that she was probably right.

The news about Dave got to him the day after it happened. Nick or Jeff heard it from Kurt, and because they couldn’t keep their mouths shut it swept through the Warblers like wildfire. It was a story that hit close to home for several of the boys. Nick, in particular, had disappeared for a few hours.

It hit Sebastian like a fist straight to the chest. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight. It was like the worst beating he’d ever taken, except that this time, there was no one to pull him through it. The Warblers were barely on speaking terms with him, and he hadn’t heard from Sophie since Jeff told her about the stunt he’d pulled with the New Directions.

He cancelled practice as diplomatically as he could and walked straight out of the building, down to the parking lot and into his car. He sat behind the wheel for a moment, unable to make another move. He felt like he was drowning. He felt the weight of everything he’d done pressing onto his chest, unrelenting.

With shaking hands he dialed his phone. Pride had kept him from dialing for weeks, pride had kept him from begging for forgiveness. But this was too much.

He heard someone pick up after the fourth ring, but there was no answer.

“Sophie?” Still no answer. “Jesus Christ, Sophie, say something. Just anything.” He leaned his head on the steering wheel, feeling tears stinging at his eyes. “I need you. I need to know you’re still my sister.”

There was an agonizing pause and he felt a pang of fear. She was going to hang up the phone. After almost a year where he’d done nothing but destroy their relationship, she was finally going to let him go. Then he heard her sigh on the other end of the line.

“Come home, big brother.”

He held in the sob that threatened to escape when he finally, _finally_ heard her voice. And he drove home.

He was a little calmer by the time his car pulled up the driveway, but not much. His hands were shaking and he could feel the tears ready to spill. He was losing all control, and he didn’t like it. He needed someone to be there for him. He needed someone who understood.

He went into the house and found it, as usual, silent. His father was never home (not that they’d speak even if he was) and Sophie generally stayed in her bedroom, unwilling to venture out of her little shell. He took the stairs two at a time and paused outside the door, trying to pull himself together, before he knocked softly.

There was no response. He held his breath, the feeling of drowning returning but worse this time, _so_ much worse.

There was a rustle from behind the door before it opened and he was face to face with his sister. Her eyes were red and blotchy from crying, her hair down and loose around her shoulders, her clothes rumpled. She looked as awful as he felt.

He said nothing, just took the two steps to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. It was the way she embraced him back that finally got him to let go of the tears he’d been holding in, and he cried into her warm, slim neck as she petted his hair and shushed him the way she’d been doing since they were kids.

“It’s okay, big brother,” she whispered against his cheek. “It’s going to be okay.”

They lay down after a while, when Sebastian had cried himself out and was too tired to stand. They had done this the same way since before they could remember: face to face, with Sophie’s head tucked beneath Sebastian’s chin, knees touching. Whenever they’d been upset and needed comfort—from bad dreams as kids, or bad days once they’d gotten older—one of them would climb into the other’s bed and they would sleep like that, and every time, they would wake up feeling better. Their mother had once said they’d been like that even before they were born, showing up on ultrasound pictures almost conjoined, they were so close.

They hadn’t done that in a year, though. Not since the night Sebastian had climbed into Sophie’s bed in their house in Paris, half-drunk, to find her unconscious and slowly growing cold.

He thought about that night as he lay there. He thought about how he felt when she didn’t wake, even when he shook her and shouted. He thought about how he’d carried her downstairs, her arms and legs limp, begging her to respond. He thought about how he’d screamed her name and fought the paramedics who wouldn’t let him in the ambulance. He thought about the long night in the hospital waiting room, trying to work through the sedatives they’d forced into his veins when he wouldn’t stop screaming for his sister.

Mostly, though, he thought about how much it hurt to feel like he could lose her, and how he had screwed it up so badly that he’d almost lost her again.

He ran a hand gently over her soft, curly hair, taking in the smell of the green apple perfume she’d been using for years, so familiar to him. She stirred a little but remained asleep, her hand resting under her cheek.

“I love you, baby girl,” he whispered too quietly to disturb her.

 

~~~~

 

**32**

Sebastian sat in the room the Warblers had staked out for practice long ago, pretending to be amused by the deliberations going on around him, but mostly getting distracted by the fact that there were no texts from Blaine. He had given up hoping for them months ago, when Blaine told him he wanted nothing more to do with them. But with the former Warbler’s accidental reappearance in his life, the stupid, unreasonable hope was back.

Auditions had been completed half an hour ago, and the junior and senior Warblers, who had watched all of them, were voting on new members. It was a new policy instituted that year: instead of the Council, all juniors and seniors got a vote, and whoever got a majority got in. There were eight of them, which should have meant five votes, but they had decided that six was probably better with limited space.

They had been deliberating for the entire half hour since the end of auditions and had voted in one person so far: a small, shy freshman with long bangs that covered one eye and an apologetic (and, Sebastian had to admit, _very_ cute) smile. He had sung the Maroon 5 song “I Can’t Lie” and absolutely _nailed_ the high notes, so even Sebastian had voted him in.

That made one. They needed eight. It had taken half an hour, and Sebastian was hungry and just the slightest bit irritated.

They voted down a freshman (absolutely no experience, but maybe next year) and a junior (“No. Just no,” Trent had insisted, with surprising forcefulness. No one had questioned him, because he _never_ said no) and then they came to Dave.

Dave’s audition had been good, but not perfect. Sebastian had sat in the very back of the room, feet up on a table, trying to be discreet and not embarrass or intimidate the poor guy. “Lonesome Day” had been a good choice of song and he had sung it well, especially for someone with such little experience. As he’d left, Sebastian had flashed him a grin and a thumbs up.

There was, however, the problem of who he was. Or had been, Sebastian insisted, because he wasn’t like that anymore.

The junior and senior Warblers had known Kurt. Most of them had met him right when he came to Dalton: a small, scared boy who flinched when people tried to touch him, who occasionally took to hiding in empty side rooms to do his homework. A boy who had tried so hard to be brave. They had all adored him, especially as he grew out of the fear and blossomed into the guy they now knew: bold, sassy, with a snarky streak a mile wide. They didn’t like the guy who had scared him, who had beaten him up and threatened the sass and smiles right out of him. They didn’t like Dave Karofsky.

It was hard to reconcile the shy, awkward guy who had come in to audition with the monster who had made Kurt’s life a living hell. There was _no way_ it could be the same person. Karofsky (as Kurt had always referred to him, as if not deigning to give him a first name) was the brute who shoved guys into lockers, who always had a slushie ready to fling in someone’s face. Dave, on the other hand, blushed and stammered his way through his introduction, sang “Lonesome Day” with this winning grin on his face, and reliably helped Trent with his history homework after dinner.

It was a long deliberation. The Warblers had only known the new Dave for a little under two weeks. Even with Sebastian vouching for him (not that that meant much—it was _Sebastian_ after all) and Jeff asking for Blaine’s opinion (“Kurt’s talked to him since it happened. They’re friends now. You can trust him.”) they weren’t quite sure what to believe.

Finally, after half an hour, Sebastian had had enough. “Goddammit,” he suddenly burst out, “Can we just vote already? We have seven spots to fill, and I think we’ve already made up our minds.”

The other guys looked over at him but said nothing.

“Fine. I’ll start. I vote yes.”

It took a moment for Jeff to raise his hand. “I vote yes.”

Dave was voted in, eight to nothing.

 

~~~~

 

**33**

**Blaine** : Sebastian, I’m sorry. Again.

 **Blaine** : I know you’re pissed at me for yelling at you again, and then blocking you out for the past week, and I don’t really blame you

 **Blaine** : I just wanted to say I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to yell at you. You were being nice to Kurt, which I should have understood.

 **Blaine** : But I think you understand why I’m so defensive. I need you to respect our boundaries. It’s what friends do.

 **Blaine** : And I really want us to try to be friends.

 **Blaine** : I guess text me whenever. Or not. If you don’t want to.

 

~~~~

**34**

**Kurt** : I GOT THE JOB!

 **Kurt** : Oh my god I’m so excited

 **Kurt** : And so scared

 **Kurt** : I have until the end of the month to render ALL the costumes

 **Kurt** : And then only two months to sew all of them

 **Kurt** : I’m going to meet the whole cast tomorrow afternoon

 **Kurt** : Oh my god, Blaine, this is so amazing!

 **Kurt** : Everything is starting to come together. Thank you so much for believing in me! I love you so much!

 

~~~~

 

**35**

**Warnings: Spoilers for season 2 of The Walking Dead. Yes, really.**

Dave had received a flurry of congratulatory text messages from Nick, Jeff, and Trent even before the new Warblers were supposed to be “officially” announced. They gave him a strange mix of emotions—happiness that he’d been accepted by his new group of friends so completely, relief that his past hadn’t held him back from that acceptance, and, swirling in the back of his mind, a little suspicion. He hoped, _really_ hoped he’d been accepted on his own merits, and not as some part of Sebastian’s redemption campaign.

He went back to his dorm after dinner (where he’d been roundly congratulated again at the official announcement) by himself, hoping for a little time to just be alone. He wasn’t used to sharing a room, and on top of being surrounded by other guys _all day_ , it was exhausting. He’d become something of a loner the past few months, and while he knew it was best for him to be out with other people, sometimes he just wanted to be alone to recharge.

His dorm room was, thankfully, empty. He took off his uniform and changed into pajamas (McKinley football sweatpants, an old tee shirt from a charity event he’d done a year or so ago) before he went over to his laptop, considering whether he wanted to have a skype call with anyone. _Not that there is really anyone_ , he thought bitterly. _I could call Kurt. Maybe Santana if she’s not too busy. And that’s about it._

He stopped when he saw the post-it on his laptop. He’d removed the audition reminder the other day, so this one was new. It had a sloppy doodle of a bird on it, which he recognized was supposed to be the Warbler mascot. Underneath was Sebastian’s angular handwriting.

“That’s the best I could do.” (An arrow pointed to the bird.) “Congrats!”

He sighed and lay down on his bed. He had a lot of homework to do, but it could wait. Something poked his shoulder, and he shifted to pull his book from where he’d shoved it under his pillow. He’d been re-reading volume 7 of _The Walking Dead_ in his free time, though he kept it hidden from Sebastian for fear of being made fun of. Because really, comic books? He could imagine the insults he’d get.

He was absorbed in the book and didn’t hear the door open. Sebastian strode in, his normal confident self, headphones in. Dave was only alerted when he heard the chorus of “Payphone.” Sebastian had been listening to it almost nonstop since they’d picked it for sectionals, working on the arrangement.

He looked up from his book and caught his roommate’s eye. Sebastian gave him a nod and removed the headphones.

“Hey big guy. Congrats again.”

“Thanks.”

Then Sebastian noticed the comic book and raised an eyebrow. “ _The Walking Dead_?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” Dave was surprised by how tired his voice sounded, as if he was already sick of Sebastian’s taunts (though honestly, there hadn’t been that many).

“Dude, I won’t make fun of you if you don’t make fun of me. I own _all_ of those.”

Then it was Dave’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Sebastian threw his bag on his chair and started to take off his blazer. “Yeah. Some of the guys used to pile in the lounge on Sunday nights and watch it. You would never guess it, but Trent’s obsessed. We used to get Wes to watch it too. Jeff quit after the mid-season finale. You know, when Sophia came out of the barn?”

Dave chuckled. “I hated that part. Did he cry?”

Sebastian laughed. “We all did.”

“What?!”

Sebastian looked a little sheepish, laughing at himself as he sat at the foot of Dave’s bed. “It’s true. I cried like a little girl. The other guys have been sworn to secrecy, but Trent will probably tell you all about it.”

Dave laughed at that as he sat up to get a better look at his roommate. “You. Sebastian Don’t-Give-a-Fuck Smythe. Cried over a little girl on a tv show.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Yeah. Well. What happens in that lounge _stays_ there. Otherwise I could tell you some _stories_.”

They chatted for about an hour, and later, Dave would look back with surprise over how _easy_ it was between them. Sebastian spilled a few lounge stories (how Jeff would scream every time something jumped out, the time Nick had attacked Sebastian with a full bowl of popcorn for scaring him) and Dave told stories from hanging out with the football team at McKinley (including the rather embarrassing story of how he and several of the guys had gotten weepy drunk over _The Notebook_ , which had Sebastian in hysterics). Over the course of the hour, they shifted their alignment on the bed without noticing—Dave sitting up against the headboard, Sebastian sitting crosswise, back pressed to the wall, legs swinging over the side. When he laughed, he leaned his head back against the wall.

They were interrupted by Sebastian’s phone chirping with a text message. He slid it from his back pocket with a mumbled “Sorry” and checked the message. Whatever it said, he launched himself up off the bed. “Oh, shit.”

Dave expected his roommate to get the hell out of the room, but instead Sebastian grabbed his laptop and jumped back right on the bed where he’d been. As he opened the laptop he gave Dave an embarrassed grin. “Don’t judge me. I have a Skype date with my sister. Wanna say hi?”

Dave caught a quick glimpse of Sebastian’s background photo (not porn, as he’d half expected, but a photo of Sebastian next to a girl Dave had never seen, both of them holding the hand of a chubby toddler and swinging her up off the ground) before he opened the Skype window. Instantly, Sophie’s face filled the screen. The girl’s hair was pulled back from her face and she was wearing a bright pink tank top. Her face lit up instantly. “Hi big brother!”

Sebastian gave the first genuine smile Dave had ever seen. “Hey little sister. Say hi to Dave.”

He gave a little jerk of his head to indicate that Dave should say hello, so he leaned over and gave a little wave. “Hey, Sophie.”

The girl looked ready to bounce out of her chair. “Hey, Dave! I hear congratulations are in order!”

Dave chuckled. “Did everyone in the world know before I did?”

Sebastian and his sister had the same laugh, which was accompanied by an affirming nod. They even wrinkled their noses the same way, which was slightly eerie, but mostly adorable.

“But Daaaave,” Sophie teased, “I’m just so happy for you! I told you that you’d nail the audition.”

“She picked a song for you, didn’t she?” Sebastian asked, and Dave realized he was still leaning close to the other boy, so Sebastian was speaking almost directly into his neck. He sat back, trying not to blush.

“I _helped_ ,” Sophie insisted. “And maybe yelled at him a little.” Sophie raised her voice a little bit as if yelling for Dave. “Sorry about that!”

It settled in the pit of Dave’s stomach again—the _doubt_ , that the Warblers had only accepted him because of Sebastian’s insistence and their soft spot for Sophie.  He was about to excuse himself from the room ( _I really don’t want to have that conversation with him right now_ ) but Sophie was already making her excuses to end the call, citing a history paper she hadn’t started yet and asking her brother to reschedule for another day. “Bye Dave,” she called, again raising her voice like he had wandered away.

He leaned back over and gave her another shy wave. “Bye, Sophie.”

“I’ll be stopping by rehearsal really soon. We’ll get you dancing.”

Dave chuckled. “You’re welcome to try.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “As if you could resist me.”

He sat back again and waited as Sophie signed off from the call, leaning into the camera to give her brother an air kiss before disconnecting. He half-heard Sebastian’s running commentary as he signed off and closed the laptop (“Honestly that girl is even less responsible than I am, I don’t know how she gets away with it, no one ever seems to notice…”). He only started paying attention again when Sebastian leveled his green eyes with Dave’s brown ones.

“What’s bugging you, big guy? And don’t even try to tell me ‘nothing.’ Your face is completely obvious.”

Dave took a deep breath. “Did you get me into the Warblers? You know what I mean.”

Sebastian’s response was perfectly level. “No.”

“I don’t believe you. The Warblers—they’re all still friends with Kurt and Blaine. And they hardly know me. I don’t believe they’d just let me be part of the group.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to take a deep breath. “Look, big guy, you know how much I suck at this stuff. So I’ll just tell you the honest truth. Yes, I talked you up before your audition. But that wouldn’t have mattered much, because when it comes down to it, I’m still one misstep away from getting my ass thrown out. The guys actually like you, and you nailed your audition. And I voted for you. But so did all seven of the other guys who get to make that decision. So it really had nothing to do with me. You did all this on your own.”

“Oh.” Dave shifted uncomfortably. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Sure.”

“One more question?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him, so he plowed ahead. “Who’s the girl on your background? Don’t tell me you have a kid and have just been playing us all this time.”

Sebastian looked confused for a second, then realized what Dave was talking about and laughed. “Oh god, ew, please. That’s my older sister, Cassie. And my niece, Katie, is two. Sophie and I went to see them a couple weeks ago. They only live in Columbus but there’s all sorts of family drama, so we only get to see them every once in a while. Now.” Sebastian shifted in preparation of getting off Dave’s bed. “If we’ve exhausted all serious subjects for the night, I’ve got an arrangement to work on and you’ve got comic books to read. So don’t bug me anymore.” The last part was delivered with a smirk, and they were back on their regular footing.

 

~~~~

 

**36**

**Sebastian** : Okay, I’ll bite. I would LOVE to find out what it’s like to be your ‘friend.’

 **Sebastian** : While it sounds like it would be INCREDIBLY boring, I’m sure you and I can find ways to make it fun

 **Blaine** : I’m glad

 **Blaine** : Though I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.

 **Sebastian** : Yeah that’s something you’re gonna have to get used to

 **Blaine** : And the innuendos have to stop. I will remind you, again, that I have a boyfriend.

 **Sebastian** : You know, sometimes I forget that

 **Sebastian** : It’s the best part of my day.

 **Blaine** : I think this was a mistake.

 **Sebastian** : Look wonderboy, let’s just be honest with each other here.

 **Sebastian** : I’m never going to be okay with the fact that you’re dating Hummel.

 **Blaine** : Well that’s not going to change.

 **Sebastian** : And I’m not going to change my mind. So let’s just agree now to leave the subject alone, yeah? Not worth it for either of us.

 **Blaine** : I feel like I’m walking into a trap.

 **Sebastian** : Jesus, wonderboy, meet me halfway here. If getting to be your friend means I can’t make any more nasty comments about your boyfriend…fuck it, I’ll try. No promises, but I’ll try.

 **Sebastian** : And in return, you don’t have to trust me, but I deserve the benefit of the doubt, at least.

 **Blaine** : That’s reasonable.

 **Sebastian** : Thank you. Now, come to rehearsal this week. Meet the new guys. Jeff and Trent won’t stop bothering me to get you here. Their devotion to you is weird.

 **Sebastian** : Dave got in. He doesn’t think he earned it, though. Getting the former leader’s approval would help.

 **Sebastian** : And I want to see the look on your face when you realize we are going to CRUSH you this year.

 **Blaine** : Aaaaaand now we’re back in familiar territory.

 **Blaine** : Your sincerity kinda freaked me out for a minute.

 **Sebastian** : Welcome to the new leaf I have turned over.

 **Sebastian** : So rehearsal tomorrow? Usual time, usual place.

 **Blaine** : Am I still sworn to secrecy?

 **Sebastian** : Stupid question.

 **Blaine** : We’ll see.

 **Sebastian** : See you tomorrow, killer

 

~~~~

 

**37**

**Kurt** : Where have you been all day? I got the job! I want to celebrate!

 **Kurt** With MY BOYFRIEND!

 **Blaine** : Oh my god I’m so sorry rehearsal ran late and Tina wanted to start a song list

 **Blaine** : I’m so so sorry but I’m so happy for you! I knew you could do it!

 **Kurt** : Thank you, love.

 **Kurt:** What are you doing tonight?

 **Blaine** : I don’t know. I just walked out of school.

 **Blaine** : Wow, it’s WAY too late in the afternoon for me to say that.

 **Kurt** : Poor baby. Come over.

 **Blaine** : I don’t know if I can! I want to, but I don’t know if I can.

 **Kurt** : Pleeeeease! The next few months are going to be crazy. I want to see you as much as possible now.

 **Kurt** : And as much OF you as possible.

 **Blaine** : I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

 

~~~~

 

 **38:** Summer after sophomore year

**Warnings: Angst, characters dealing with trauma.**

 

It had been months and Sophie hadn’t spoken a _word_.

He’d expected the silence from her, at first. She’d always been quiet, even as a little kid. Stress and sadness always made it worse until she was practically mute, and in the past year or so it had taken longer and longer to come out of those “quiet times,” as they secretly called them. So when she didn’t speak for the three days she lay in the hospital, he wasn’t at all surprised.

But they’d gone home and she’d stayed silent, so deep down in herself that she didn’t even acknowledge when someone spoke to her. It took a week before she’d turn her head at the sound of her name, and even then her eye contact had been wavering and unfocused. It was another two weeks until he could even get her to nod her head yes or no.

Three months had gone by without hearing her voice. Three whole months without her singing in the kitchen, humming along to the music on her headphones, or yelling across the den. Three months since he’d heard her say his name in the loving, teasing way she did when she shook him awake on Saturday mornings.

She was a shell. Not only was she silent, but she didn’t dance, or draw, or cook, or do anything she used to love. She skipped her early morning runs, staying in bed until mid-afternoon. She didn’t even go to school.

He never gave up trying to reach her. Somewhere in there, he knew, was the spirited, cheerful, sweet twin sister he loved. Every morning he went into her room before leaving for school. She was still deep asleep at that hour, so he tiptoed across the floor and left her breakfast on her desk. He would watch her for a moment, counting the seconds in the rise and fall of her chest. Then he’d run a gentle hand over her hair, kiss her cheek, and be on his way. He wanted so badly to believe that even if she was asleep, she still knew that he was there, that he was trying. He kept his phone on in his pocket all day in case a call or text came. (He knew better than to hope, but he refused to turn his phone off if there was even the most remote possibility.) When he came home in the afternoon—straight home from school, never staying to hang out with his friends like he used to—he repeated the morning ritual. Sometimes she would be awake by then, and he’d smile and say hello.

It was those moments that he knew she wasn’t gone forever. If she’d been gone—really and truly gone—her eyes wouldn’t have focused on his face for a brief second. Recognition wouldn’t flicker through them. Those moments—tiny fractions of seconds, which only happened once every few days—were enough to give him hope that she would someday return.

Twice a week, he came home from school and woke her gently, and instructed her to get in the shower and get dressed. When she was ready, he’d drive her to her therapist. He sat in the waiting room for every appointment, sometimes with homework, sometimes just with a book. Other days, he’d often join her in bed. He tried reading aloud to her a few times, but halfway through The Hunger Games he felt stupid and gave up. Instead he put on a movie, kicked off his shoes, and climbed into bed, curling his body around her back. When the movie was finished he’d go downstairs and make them something simple for dinner.

Getting her to eat was the most difficult part of the day. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what foods she liked—they’d had the same tastes since they were kids, so preparing a food she liked was easy. It was that he knew, without him, she wouldn’t eat anything all day. Some days he thought that if she were left to her own devices, she’d just let herself starve and slip away in that bed. Maybe that was what she really wanted.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. So every night, he made dinner. He wasn’t the greatest cook, but simple things like pasta and soup weren’t completely beyond him, so every night he came up with something. Thankfully, as summer wore on, her favorite fruit came into season and he always had ripe peaches and cherries to offer.

Then the worst began. He brought two dinners up on a tray and managed the doors with his foot, most of the time avoiding spilling too much on himself. He would set the tray on her desk and, if she was sleeping, wake her. She would sit up without resisting, and he’d fluff and prop up her pillow so she could sit against the headboard.  Then he’d sit at the foot of her bed and place the tray firmly between them.

She was obedient, though slow, her movements like she was underwater. She’d curl up with her knees against her chest, balancing the plate on top of them with the delicate dexterity she’d always had. It would sometimes take an hour or so for her to finish the modest portion he’d give her. As she ate he’d talk, trying to fill the aching silence between them with mindless chatter about his day at school, the books he was reading for class, or the latest gossip from her friends. He carefully avoided mentioning that her (ex) boyfriend had dropped out of school, that gossip was going around that she was dead or in psychiatric hospital. He told her instead that her friends missed her and hoped she came back soon.

When they were done eating (and he, feeling like the nanny they’d had as kids, wouldn’t leave until she ate everything) he’d gently instruct her to shower and change her pajamas while he did the dishes. Then, every night he did his homework at her desk after she’d gone back to bed. Some nights took longer than others and he’d be up past midnight, pausing every once in a while to watch her breathe. The soft rise and fall of her chest was reassuring. It soothed, for a short time anyway, the ache in his heart.

She was still there. Somewhere.

 

~~~~

 

**39**

**Sophie** : So have you done it yet?

 **Jeff** : Done what yet?

 **Sophie** : You know what I mean

 **Jeff** : Uh this time I actually don’t…sorry

 **Sophie** : Have you told you-know-who how you feel?

 **Jeff** : No

 **Sophie** : WHAT? Why the hell not?

 **Jeff** : Because I’m SCARED, Sophie. He’s been my friend for years. It’s not that simple

 **Sophie** : Baby it’ll be okay

 **Jeff** : You don’t know that.

 **Sophie** : Yes, I do.

 **Jeff** : Wait you didn’t talk to him did you?

 **Jeff** : Sophie please tell me you didn’t tell him!!

 **Sophie** : No no no baby I didn’t. I would never do that to you

 **Sophie** : I can just tell. I’m a girl, I just KNOW these things. Didn’t you know that?

 **Jeff** : How do you know?

 **Sophie** : The way you look at him during rehearsal? He looks at you the same way. Except ten times worse.

 **Jeff** : Really?

 **Sophie** : Oh honey, you’re so oblivious. It would be cute if it weren’t so damn frustrating.

 **Jeff** : So you really think he feels the same way?

 **Sophie** : Like I said, I haven’t talked to him about it, so I can’t be 100% sure. But I’d say that telling him would be a good idea.

 **Jeff** : I don’t know, Sophie. I’m not sure I can take that risk.

 **Sophie** : I know, baby. I understand

 **Sophie:**  But when you do, I call dibs on being the first to say “I told you so”

 **Jeff:** If you’re telling the truth, I won’t even care.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings for this chapter: Characters dealing with trauma, emotionally abusive parents. Super brief mentions of past bullying and Kurt visiting Dave in the hospital.**

 

**40**

Blaine wasn’t sure if he should go to rehearsal, but Kurt was already wrapped up in his designs (going so far as to turn off his phone all day), having made it his goal to have preliminary designs done by Sunday. The New Directions had decided to skip rehearsal that day, since Tina wasn’t feeling well. So Blaine found himself with the entirety of Thursday afternoon and evening open to him, and Dalton was only a little way out of the way if he were to drive home….

He pulled his car into the parking lot about twenty minutes early and made his way inside. The familiar shouts were already beginning in the practice room, though there were more voices this time.

A cheer went up when he walked in the door, though thankfully this time he wasn’t tackled by anyone. He exchanged hugs with Trent and Jeff, a high five with Sophie, an acknowledging nod with Sebastian, and a “bro hug” with Dave, which seemed to please everyone, including Dave.

“Alright, alright,” Sebastian interrupted impatiently. “I’m not looking forward to seeing how much we all suck, so let’s get this shitshow on the road, yeah?”

The junior and senior boys laughed and the new guys looked nervous as Sebastian passed around copies of the sheet music. Blaine leaned over Nick’s shoulder to snoop, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Sebastian, as if the other boy was reminding him that he was sworn to secrecy. He wasn’t surprised by the choice (Jeff had been awfully persuasive about doing “Payphone”), but there was one detail he noticed. The sheet music was copied from a handwritten page. Blaine had always gotten help from several musician friends when working on the arrangements, and even then it had been a multi-person job. Sebastian was too proud to ask for help—it must have taken him the entire week.

“Nick! This is all you.” Nick raised an eyebrow at Sebastian from across the room, not believing him. The two boys stared each other down for a second, before Sebastian let out of a huff. “Well, come the fuck on!” He then pointed at Jeff and Sophie, who were huddled on the couch over a single copy of the music. “You two. Do…whatever it is that you do. All the rest of you, I said let’s get this shitshow started.”

Blaine thought he’d be content to sit back and watch as he had the previous week. Jeff and Sophie moved over to a corner of the room with Jeff’s iPod, one headphone in each of their ears, to start planning out choreography. The other Warblers assembled around the piano, where Trent started to lead warm-ups. The dynamics of the group were interesting. The returning juniors and seniors crowded up around the piano, half warming up and half messing with each other. The freshmen and sophomores stood behind them, focusing, trying not to mess up their first rehearsal. Dave stood on the very edge, looking nervous, seemingly content to be on the fringe for now—until Wes and Thad grabbed his arms and pulled him right to the center of the group with huge, reassuring grins.

He turned to watch Jeff and Sophie. Even connected by headphones, which should have been awkward, the two of them moved in sync with remarkable ease. They had found the beat and were grooving along, Sophie’s hips swinging fluidly. Her long uniform skirt swished around her legs, which were almost completely covered by dark blue knee socks. He watched as she and Jeff worked together, building off the dance Jeff had done the previous week. Though Sebastian had once referred to Sophie as a “ballerina,” it was pretty clear she knew what she was doing. He made a mental note to ask her what other styles of dance she was into. She was _good_.

A whistle from the piano caught his attention. The Warblers were still warming up at the piano and everyone was focused on Trent except for Thad, who was giving sending Blaine a “well, what are you waiting for?” look.

_Wait….they want me to join?_

He raised an eyebrow at Thad, who stared him down and mouthed, “Do I have to carry you?”

It had happened before. Multiple times. Blaine figured it was best if he obeyed.

 

~~~~

 

**41**

He ended up staying at rehearsal for four hours. It was amazing how it flew by just like old times. They got caught up in the singing and Nick was absolutely _rocking_ his solo, so the energy carried him through until his phone started ringing and didn’t stop.

It was 9pm. And it was Kurt. Well _shit_.

He excused himself from the group and tried not to flee the room as he answered. “Hey! I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“It’s no problem…where are you?”

Blaine checked that the door was securely closed behind him, as the Warblers had started one more run-through of the song. “I um… I went to Warbler rehearsal. They invited me to meet the new guys. I mean, they invited you too, but I knew you were busy, so… I never mentioned it, did I?”

Kurt laughed on the other end of the line. “No, you didn’t, but that’s alright. I’ve barely looked up from my drawing pad all day. My passion for severe black and white stripes is really killing me right now.”

“I’m sure it all looks great. Look, I was just about to head out. Can I call you back when I get home?”

“Sure, but don’t skip out on my accord. I have a few more hours of drawing left in me, so I’ll actually be awake this time when you call.”

“Okay. I think they’re almost done, anyway. I’ll call you soon.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Blaine hung up the phone and took a deep breath before turning back into the practice room. The guys were still around the piano but they were less organized, some of them leaning against the furniture. Sophie and Jeff were nowhere to be found—had they been practicing the entire time?

He answered his own question a second later when he saw them on one of the couches. They were lying down, dead asleep. Jeff was the big spoon, with his arm tossed over Sophie’s waist and his face buried in her curly hair. Despite their position, there was something innocent about it, like two puppies curled around each other.

“I’m gonna _kill_ that guy one of these days.”

Blaine turned to find Sebastian standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, looking mildly pissed off.

“Jeff? He’s harmless. Besides, they’re kinda cute.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him. “ _Cute_ doesn’t make up for the fact that my sister is off limits. I know it’s hard for Jeff to keep track of all the rules—let’s face it, we’re the Warblers, we’ve got a _shit ton_ of rules—but ‘keep your hands off my sister’ is pretty high on the list.” He walked over and gave the couch leg a vicious kick, giving Sophie and Jeff a good shake. “Sophie. Up. Time to go.”

Sophie snuffled a little and opened one eye. “Oh. Hey.” She sat up, swatting Jeff’s arms away and waking him. “Do you guys no longer suck? Can I start teaching you the dance now?”

Sebastian grinned, but still tried to hold the stern pose. “No, we still suck. We’ll get dancing next week. Until then—Jeff, seriously, hands off my sister.” The last part was announced loud enough it caught some of the boys’ attention, especially Nick. Blaine didn’t miss the guilty look on Jeff’s face as he looked at the other boy. They’d been friends since when they were what. five? Jeff had to have noticed by now.

He said nothing, though, except a “bye” as Sebastian threw an arm around his sister’s shoulders and walked her out of the room. The other Warblers began to scatter since rehearsal was finished for the night and it was late.  Jeff was slow to rise from the couch, still rubbing his eyes, clearly tired. They were the last ones in the room.

“Hey, Jeff… Can I ask you something?”

Jeff yawned and stretched. His uniform was all out of place from dancing, and with his hair a little mussed, he looked so much like the kid Blaine remembered. “Sure, B. What’s up?”

Blaine sat on the other end of the couch. “I know it’s none of my business. And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

Jeff grinned wryly. “You’re gonna ask about me and Sophie, aren’t you? It’s okay, everyone does.”

Blaine shrugged. “You got me.”

Jeff chuckled. “I think half the guys have asked at least once. Sophie and I are just friends. I’ll remind you, B, I’m not into girls.”

“Jeff, there was an awful lot of cuddling going on. Considering Sebastian threatened to kill you for it… I just don’t want to see you get killed.”

Jeff laughed this time, full and loud. “Oh my god, Blaine. Chill the hell out. Sebastian is _not_ going to kill me. You may not know this, but if it comes down to it, I can kick his ass.”

“I would _love_ to see that.”

“So would a lot of people. But…look, okay, I’ll tell you the truth. But you gotta promise to keep it a secret. _Especially_ from the other Warblers.”

“I don’t really wanna know all the details…”

“It’s nothing like that. Sophie and I…we’re friends, really. But she’s…affectionate. Not slutty like Sebastian, but she’s always got her hands on somebody, and she’s cute and she’s fun so I’m not gonna pretend I don’t like it. But she’s got a thing for one of the other guys. She won’t tell me who it is. I have my suspicions, but she’s not spilling. So we play it up a little. Just to get this guy’s ass in gear, cause apparently he’s not making a move.”

“So…she’s using you?”

“Sometimes? It kinda feels like it. I try not to think about it too much. I mean, Sophie is cute as hell and we have fun and play at cute couply stuff, but it’s just us having fun. Plus I kinda have feelings for someone else.”

“Does she know? I’m sure she’d love to interfere.”

Jeff slumped back against the couch. “Oh my god, she won’t leave me alone about it! This is why I don’t tell anyone anything.”

Blaine laughed. “Well, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I gotta go. You gonna be alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll be _fine_. It’s totally fine that I’ve got a crush on my best friend.” He stopped, a look of pure terror crossing his features. “Oh. Shit. You did NOT hear that.”

Blaine put up his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I heard nothing. And I will not be telling anyone anything.”

Jeff sat back up, still looking terrified. “Blaine, I’m serious. You can’t tell _anyone_. He doesn’t know. Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. You _can’t tell_.”

“Jeff, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I promise. That would be awful.”

Jeff heaved a deep sigh. “Could you please just… I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Say hi to Kurt for me.”

Blaine knew he was being dismissed, so he laid a reassuring hand on the other boy’s shoulder as he stood.

“You’re gonna come back to rehearsal again, right?” Jeff called after him as he was halfway to the door. “We’re gonna be dancing by next week.”

“I um… I don’t know, we’re already preparing for Sectionals…”

“We’re not competing against each other until Regionals.”

“I know, it’s just… We’ll see, ok? I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Blaine.”

He heard one last shout as the door closed. “SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!”

 

~~~~

 

**42**

**Jeff** : Hey. Can we talk?

 **Nick:** Sure, anything wrong?

 **Jeff** : No

 **Jeff** : Just gotta talk something over with you

 **Nick** : Okay. I’ll swing by in an hour or so, ok?

 **Jeff** : Sure

 

 

 **Nick** : Hey, I’m here!

 **Nick** : Where are you??

 

~~~~

  
 **43** : Summer before junior year  
 **Warnings: Characters dealing with trauma, emotionally abusive parents.**

 

They held hands the entire flight back to the US.

Sophie still wasn’t speaking, though there were signs of her old self beginning to re-emerge—when he spoke to her, she would react with a change in expression, a nod, or any of the small, non-verbal cues he knew so well. When he curled up in her bed in the afternoon she’d pull his arm around and intertwine their fingers. It was also clear, through the small shifts in her face and body, that she was listening more closely.

All that came to a crashing halt at the final meeting with their mother’s attorney.

He’d begged, throughout the entire process, to keep her out of those meetings. She didn’t need the stress. The last time they’d been through the process, two years before, she’d gone mute for days. He didn’t want to know how she’d handle it this time. Likely, she wouldn’t.

The final meeting, though, they had insisted and he’d reluctantly pulled her from bed that morning, heavy with dread. They’d gotten dressed—she in a pale orange summer dress, he in a navy blue polo and jeans—and he’d driven over. They’d both been silent. He was too consumed with worry to try to fill the air between them. He’d just driven, his free hand resting on her knee in a way that he hoped was reassuring.

The lawyer used the word “separate.”

As in, their father was only interested in taking Sophie, and wanted to separate the two of them.

Sophie had buried her face in the front of Sebastian’s shirt and sobbed, knuckles white as she gripped his shoulders.

He’d started yelling then. “No! You can’t do that. Do you think I’m going to let her out of my sight? If he cares about her so much, where the hell has he been the past three months? Where the hell has anyone been? I’m the only one who’s taken care of her this whole time. No one else has even bothered to _talk_ to her. Not our mother, and sure as hell not our father. He doesn’t _get_ to take her from me!”

Sophie had just cried, big, deep sobs that shook her entire body and soaked the front of his shirt. When he’d yelled himself out he’d turned to kiss her forehead, stroking her hair and whispering and hushing her as best he could.

The lawyer promised he’d see what he could do, and a few weeks later, their mother had the driver drop them at the airport, “not having the strength” to see them off herself. Sebastian managed both of their bags, having had most of their stuff sent along beforehand. Sophie followed a half step behind him, mutely handing over tickets and identification when asked but hardly acknowledging the outside world as the airport buzzed around them.

The entire flight, she gripped his hand. He could see the fear on her face, in the tense lines of her shoulders, in the way the ligaments of neck stood out against her translucent skin. He knew he probably looked the same.

He didn’t know what to say. He’d tried words over and over for three long months with no response. It had gotten a little easier, for a short while, when she’d begun responding, when he’d seen light in her eyes. That was gone. And he had nothing more he could say.

Their father was waiting for them when they got off the plane. They both froze when they saw him, still wearing a full suit like he’d just walked out of the office. He didn’t smile. Neither did they. Sebastian just squeezed her hand and pulled her forward. If they had to face this, goddammit he wasn’t going to let Sophie face it alone.

Their father still didn’t smile when they walked up to him.

“Hello, dad,” Sebastian tried weakly. Sophie said nothing at all.

His father looked down at him with contempt. “Don’t get your hopes up, kid. I only wanted your sister.”

He had known that already. The lawyer had said as much to him, though he’d tried to soften the blow. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

So that was it. That was how this was going to go. His sister wasn’t speaking. His mother had just put them on a plane to another continent without a proper goodbye. And now he was stuck living again with his father. His father who had made years of his life a living hell. His father who had no problem saying he didn’t even _want_ him.

Their father was already walking away from them and Sebastian pulled Sophie along with him. She was startled and nearly stumbled, practically running to keep up.

He was stopped when she yanked on his hand. He turned to her but couldn’t make eye contact. He was sure, if he did, that she would see the tears threatening and stinging in his eyes.

She placed her hands on his chin and tilted her face up, forcing him to look at her. The look on her face nearly broke his composure. So many things were written there that she couldn’t yet say. It was “I’m sorry.” It was “This is horrible.” It was “I love you.”

He couldn’t speak, so he just leaned down and touched their foreheads together, hoping the simple gesture conveyed the same emotions.

  
~~~~

**44**

It had been two weeks.

Two. Weeks.

Two whole weeks since he’d been able to see Kurt face to face.  Skype did NOT count.

Two whole weeks since they’d held hands, hugged, kissed, or slept together.

It had been torture.

Blaine was irritated all the time. He’d actually had to leave rehearsal at one point during the second week because, let’s face it, it had been better for everyone involved that way. Even if Sam was being a little more vacant than usual and Tina could get overbearing, it would have been _completely_ unfair for them to be on the receiving end of his bad mood.

Then there were the freshmen. He couldn’t even get started on the freshmen. They were cute. Really they were. And he knew he had the same starry-eyed naiveté as a freshman—probably even worse—but the four of them collectively could be a little much at a time when everything was already a little much.

So on Thursday of the last week of September, he walked out of Glee rehearsal without even giving an excuse, which was a first, and walked straight out to the parking lot without even stopping at his locker.

He sat in his car for a while, trying to take the deep, calming breaths he knew he needed. His phone was buzzing with incoming text messages, which he read but decided not to reply to just yet.

 **Tina** : What happened? Are you ok??

 **Sam** : Dude, I’m sorry if I said anything that pissed you off.

 **Artie** : Do what you need to do, B.

He put his keys in the ignition to turn on the radio and was immediately hit with “Teenage Dream.” Oh, now that was just _unfair_.

He fired off a quick, desperate text.

 **Blaine** : Please tell me that by some chance you’re miraculously free right now and I can come see you.

It took a few minutes for a reply, and by that time the song had thankfully changed to something he’d never heard before.

 **Kurt** : No :( I have to get pattern for Johanna’s first dress done today

 **Kurt** : This might kill me!

Blaine sighed, frustration once again welling up in his chest, squeezing out his breath. Ever since they’d started dating, they’d never gone this long without seeing each other. To go without him this long was maddening and horrible, made complicated by the fact that he was really proud of Kurt’s new job and so glad to see his boyfriend finally happy after months of struggling, which made him feel guilty for being angry. He didn’t know what to feel anymore.

 **Blaine** : I really need to see you.

 **Kurt** : I know! This is all taking so much longer than I expected.

 **Kurt** : I’m so sorry. I miss you SO much!

 **Blaine** : I can drive down and help.

 **Kurt** : I would love that, but there’s no room! We have one table I can use for cutting.

 **Kurt** : It’s a card table. Set up in the back of the orchestra next to the lighting board.

 **Kurt** : I’ve tripped over my own sewing kit three times in the past hour.

 **Blaine** : Are you sure? I can be helpful! I don’t want you to feel like you have to take all this on yourself.

 **Kurt** : Thank you, love. But I have some help here already.

 **Blaine** : They hired someone else?

 **Kurt** : No, the guy who plays Sweeney is helping. He doesn’t need to be on stage for a while.

 **Kurt** : And he can really only mess up a paper pattern so much, so I handed him an extra pair of scissors.

 **Blaine** : Ok, as long as you have help. I’m gonna start driving home, but if you change your mind, I’ll come by.

 **Kurt** : Thank you, love! I’ll call you as soon as I get home.

 **Blaine** : Okay. Love you.

He took another deep breath. All the things he was feeling--the strange and distressing combination of pride, anger, loneliness, and irrational jealousy that some other guy was helping his boyfriend when he hadn’t seen him in two weeks—it was too much. It made him feel like his insides were in knots and doing backflips. It was not pleasant.

He had a few more texts from the New Directions, mostly asking if he was okay. Tina had texted him a second time, so he sent her a quick reply, just to keep her from really freaking out. They’d become a lot closer since the year started and he didn’t want to worry her.

 **Blaine** : Hey. I’m sorry. I’m really stressed and I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to hang around today.

 **Tina** : I understand. You kinda freaked us out though.

 **Blaine** : I know. Sorry. I’ll be back tomorrow, ok? Gonna go home and chill out for a while.

 **Tina** : Okay. Let me know if you need anything.

He started the car without a final reply.

 

~~~~

 

**45**

Blaine’s phone finally rang after eleven, as he was curled up in bed with Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (for what was probably the tenth time) and just beginning to fight falling asleep. The screen filled with a picture he’d snapped of Kurt early in the summer, giggling and stabbing a spoon into an ice cream sundae they’d shared. Until today, it had made him smile every time it popped up. This time, though, his stomach twinged with the slightest hint of guilt. How could he have been mad at his boyfriend, who was working himself half-crazy?

He answered the phone with a soft, “Hey, babe.”

“Hey yourself.” Kurt sounded exhausted. “Did I wake you up?”

Blaine shifted and closed the book. “No. I wouldn’t mind even if you did, though.”

Kurt gave a soft chuckle. “I’m sorry it’s so late. I just got back. That stupid dress pattern”—he paused as he yawned—“I just couldn’t get the sleeves right. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate sleeves? And then Johnny-he’s the guy who plays Sweeney-lost one little tiny piece and we had to draw it out all over again. So of course he found it in his goddamn backpack just as I finished cutting the replacement.”

They both laughed a little at that.

“Well, it was nice of him to help you.”

“Yeah, it was. But I ended up wanting to put a bell around his neck by the end of the night. There was _not_ enough room for two people at that table and we tripped all over each other. I almost knocked my whole kit onto his foot.”

“Yikes.”  
“Yeah. But it was nice to have help. And it was really sweet of you to offer to drive all the way over.” Kurt paused for another yawn, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer and sadder. “I really miss you.”

“I really miss you too. Are you going to get any time off this weekend?”

Kurt groaned. “No. I have dinner with dad tomorrow night, then afternoon rehearsals both Saturday and Sunday. I can’t believe how often they’re at that theatre. It’s like they’re trying to get every single second they can to rehearse.”

“Do you really have to be there? If they’re working you can’t really pull them off stage, can you?”

“We have tech meetings at the beginning of rehearsal. Not every time, but always Saturdays and Sundays, they told me. And after that, I mean, I’m already there, and there isn’t a lot of space for me to work at home.” He groaned again. “I might be able to sneak out Sunday afternoon.”

“Okay. Well, don’t drive yourself crazy. I know this is really important to you.”

“Blaine… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Kurt, I miss you, but this is a big deal to you. And I’m really proud of you.”

“You’re the best, Blaine. I love you so much.” Kurt’s voice was beginning to fade into sleep. “Mm… I’m so tired. My feet are killing me.”

“Babe, you should get your sleep.” He grinned a little. “You’re the one who’s always telling me I need my beauty rest.”

When Kurt didn’t respond, Blaine knew his boyfriend had already drifted off. He waited for a minute, hearing his faint, even breaths on the other end of the phone. And he tried not to think of the fact that it was the closest they’d been in two weeks.

 

~~~~

 

**46**

Late on Sunday afternoon, Blaine was just wrapping up his English homework when he noticed Kurt’s name on his Facebook page.

_Kurt Hummel was tagged in a photo with Johnny Andrews._

He clicked on the tag and the photo filled his screen. It was of Kurt and a slightly older, dark-haired man, crammed into a diner booth, cups of coffee in front of them. They were laughing about something, Kurt covering his mouth with one hand. The caption read, “Sweeney and our amazing costume designer. We love you Kurt!”

At that exact moment, his phone buzzed on the desk next to him. It was a text from Kurt.

 **Kurt** : Hi my love! Cast is dragging me out to a late lunch. Or by this time is it an early dinner? Miss you!!

It was like the bottom fell out of the world.

Okay, that was a little overdramatic. But Blaine felt justified in being a little overdramatic when he hadn’t seen his boyfriend in two and a half weeks. And when said boyfriend had chosen to take the first potentially free afternoon and spend it with someone else.

He didn’t answer Kurt’s message, but sent one to Tina instead. “Hey secret girlfriend,” he typed, using the joking endearment he’d started calling her when Mike had moved away and they’d spent two days in her bed, watching chick flicks and eating so much chocolate they’d both gotten stomachaches.

Her response was almost instant.

 **Tina** : Hey secret boyfriend. You better?

 **Blaine** : If I asked if I could come over and eat ice cream and cry with you, would that be too much?

 **Tina** : I have two pints of Cherry Garcia in the fridge. Bring pajamas.

 **Blaine** : You’re the best. See you in a little bit.

 

~~~~

 

**47**

Sunday afternoons at Dalton were the calmest part of the week. Sports teams didn’t practice. Even the Warblers took the day off until competition season rolled around. It was a day for homework and slacking off.

Dave usually did his homework outside. There was a tree on the far side of campus, huge and broad, where the roots emerged from the ground and he fit perfectly against the trunk. No one ever bothered him there, so he used it as a chance to escape from the hectic week and focus.

The class work was a lot harder than he was used to. It took all of his patience, some days, to finish his assignments, especially the assigned reading. The peace he found outdoors helped a little.

On this particular Sunday, however, it was pouring rain outside, and even a ridiculously difficult English assignment couldn’t get him to brave the weather. So he hunkered down at his desk after breakfast, determined to get the work done before dinner so that he could finally get a few hours to relax. Sebastian was around campus somewhere and would probably be in the room after dinner, but Dave had gotten used to sharing the space. Sebastian seemed to know when Dave wanted to talk and when he wanted to be left alone, and seemed to honestly be trying to make things as easy on Dave as he could.

He was interrupted around two in the afternoon by a knock on the door. Without looking up, he hollered, “It’s open,” over his shoulder.

He looked up when the door swung open and he heard Trent’s voice. “Hey.”

He felt his face light up in a smile he couldn’t explain. “Hey Trent. What’s up?”

The other boy leaned casually on the doorframe. He was wearing loose jeans and a gray tee-shirt with a New York Yankees logo on the front. He hadn’t even done his hair, which fell over his eyes. “So… I heard a rumor you’re into ‘The Walking Dead.’”

“Depends who’s asking.”

Trent’s lips twisted into an adorable, lopsided grin. “The guy with the entire series on dvd. Come on, we’re gonna watch some of season two. Second half of the season, I promise.”

“I’d love to, but I _have_ to finish my reading for tomorrow. It’s killing me.”

“Bring it with you. We all pretend like we’re doing our homework. And if you don’t finish it, I’m sure Nick can help you out. He always gets that crap done early.”

“I really don’t think I should.”

Trent crossed his arms over his chest. “Dude, seriously, I know you play football and everything, but I’m a hell of a lot tougher than I look, and I _will_ drag your ass down the hall if I have to.”

Dave laughed aloud. “I’m tempted to stay right here so you have to prove it.”

Trent raised an eyebrow, as if in challenge, and the two boys stared each other down for a long moment.

Trent broke first, and pushed himself away from the doorframe with a shrug. “Fuck it. I’ll be in Nick and Jeff’s room.”

Dave jumped up before Trent could walk away. “Dude! Wait up. I was just joking.” He caught Trent’s triumphant smile just before he turned, feeling his face flush a little, to grab his sweatshirt.

 

~~~~

 

**48**

Sunday afternoons were meant for comfort.

When Blaine showed up at Tina’s house, she immediately pulled two pints of ice cream from the freezer and sent him to change into his pajamas. Despite the fact that it was only 7pm, she was already wearing a ruffled black pajama top and long pants with pink slippers on her feet. When he emerged from the bathroom in gray sweats and a tee shirt from a band he hadn’t listened to in years, she had already opened up the many layers of blankets on her bed and put a dvd on.

“Hope you’re okay with ‘Crazy Stupid Love.’ I’m in a Ryan Gosling sort of mood,” she said as they both climbed onto the bed and pulled the comforter up to their chests.

“I could get down with that,” he responded, taking the offered pint of ice cream.

She giggled and poked him in the ribs with a spoon. “I’m sure you won’t have any problems.”

“I don’t know. His abs are awfully difficult to look at.”

“I know, right?” She dug her spoon into the ice cream with a vengeance. “So what’s going on, Blaine? I’ve been worried about you.”

He frowned and swirled his spoon in the melted ice cream at the top of the carton. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

She shrugged. “Okay.” She pressed play on the remote. “I’ll ask you again when you’re halfway through the pint.”

 

~~~~

 

**49**

**Warnings: Super brief mentions of past bullying and Kurt visiting Dave in the hospital.** Spoilers for season 2 of The Walking Dead. (I’m obsessed, therefore the boys are obsessed.)

 

Two episodes into the unofficial “Walking Dead” marathon, Dave decided that Sundays were definitely meant for relaxing.

He also realized that “relaxing” meant something completely different in a dorm room full of rowdy seventeen-year-old boys.

Relaxing in Nick and Jeff’s room meant a lot of yelling, eating junk food, and, at one point, getting a solid wallop in the face with a pillow (Nick had lousy aim). It involved very little reading, even less doing his homework, and no silence to speak of. He rather liked it that way.

It was only when the thin, gray, watery sunlight that managed to seep through the windows finally faded away, darkening the room, that the other boys began to calm down. They had somehow all ended up piled on one of the beds, facing the desk on the opposite side of the room where Jeff’s laptop was set up. At first it had been for the purpose of easily sharing the pizzas they’d ordered, but that was a couple of hours ago and no one had budged.

Dave had never been in this situation. No one was cuddling, exactly, and he couldn’t describe the situation as “intimate,” but there was a closeness between all the boys—which, he realized, included himself—that he hadn’t experienced before. They were so comfortable, piled together, Nick’s ankle looped around Jeff’s, Trent’s shoulder pressed against Dave’s. He really, really liked it. He felt warm and comfortable and _accepted_ by the boys around him. It was nothing like the football team, where affection had only been displayed with fist bumps and slaps on the back. Even then, he’d been desperately hiding a secret and putting up a front. Around these three, though, he was a different person. He was himself, no more, no less. They knew him, good and bad, and were still okay piling into bed around him, joking with him, being his friend.

They were watching one of the slower, quieter episodes when he noticed that Trent’s head had begun to droop. The other boy had been fighting sleep, occasionally rubbing his eyes or shifting his position for a while, but was clearly losing. He probably didn’t even realize how much he was leaning on Dave’s shoulder.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Dave shifted his position to allow Trent to lean down and put his head on his shoulder. The other boy was completely asleep by then, breathing slow and even, lips parted just slightly. His hair tickled Dave’s cheek and he smelled faintly of cologne, something deep, earthy and musky.

This was also new.

Before this moment, the only boy he’d ever been so close to had been Kurt. And that had been…well, a trainwreck. He’d desperately loved Kurt, but had shown it in the worst possible way, had hurt him terribly. And as a result, no matter what happened afterwards, there was a wall between them. Even when Kurt had come to visit him in the hospital, it was still there. It was barely anything by that point, but they still had to cross it to get to each other. Kurt would have never let his guard down around Dave like this. Dave couldn’t blame him.

Trent leaned in just a little farther and his hand slid from where it had been resting on his lap, landing on the bed between them. Dave was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Trent’s hand rested very lightly against his thigh. He knew it was unintentional, but his brain went into overdrive. He felt the warmth of Trent’s fingers multiplied a hundred times by his own nervousness.

It lasted only a minute, as a loud gunshot in the episode caused Trent to tense and wake up, mumbling a “what the fuck?” as he rubbed his eyes. He looked around, as if trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. “What’d I miss?”

Dave nodded toward the laptop. “You fell asleep. They shot Dale.”

“Oh. Did I fall asleep on you? Sorry.”

Dave shrugged in response, feigning nonchalance to cover up the fact that he had no idea what to say. “No big deal.”

“I should probably go. I have no idea why I’m so tired.”

That was spoken just loud enough for Nick and Jeff to hear. They looked up from where they’d been leaning their heads together, Nick looking embarrassed at being caught.

“Dude, you can’t leave _now_ ,” Jeff insisted. “Season finale! We gotta watch the finale.”

Trent was already pushing himself up off the bed. “Not tonight, guys. See you all in class.” He waved over his shoulder as he left. Dave found he was disappointed that Trent avoided eye contact with him.

Jeff managed to hold in his giggles for a single minute after the door closed. Soon Nick had joined in too, both boys holding their sides from laughing so hard.

“What?” Dave demanded, confused.

Jeff wiped his eyes. “Trent likes you.”

“It’s pretty obvious,” Nick added.

“What? That’s… We barely know each other.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Are you serious? Dude, if you haven’t noticed, you’re worse than Blaine.”

“Which is really saying something, because Blaine is an _idiot_ ,” Nick finished, which caused Jeff to start giggling again.

“Remember at the Christmas party two years ago?”

“Oh my god, I wish I could forget. That was so awkward.”

“I don’t think they ever talked about it, either.”

“Probably not. But it was pretty funny.”

“Whoa,” Dave interjected. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Back up. Trent and I hardly know each other. I’ve been here for like a month.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, if time were the only thing that counted, Nicky and I would be _married_ by now.” Dave didn’t miss the crushed look on Nick’s face, but Jeff barreled on, oblivious. “Trent’s been in love with Blaine since we were freshmen. It’s nice to see him moving on.”

“You can’t possibly think he’s moved on to _me_.”

Jeff shrugged. “I only know what I see.”

Dave decided not to comment. If Jeff couldn’t see what was so clearly in front of his face—that his best friend was so clearly in love with him that even Dave, who had known them for only a month, could see it—then the blond boy clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

“Whatever. So, season finale?”


	6. Chapter 6

**No warnings for this chapter.**

 

**50**

**Jeff** : I tried to tell him

 **Sophie** : And??

 **Sophie:** Wait, TRIED?

 **Jeff** : I chickened out.

 **Sophie** : WHAT.

 **Sophie** : I give up on you.

 **Jeff** : Don’t be mean, this is really scary

 **Sophie** : Baby we’ve been teasing him since last year trying to get him to make a move, and I’ve been yelling at you for longer than that

 **Sophie** : If neither of you is gonna go for it, this is never gonna happen and I’m gonna quit wasting my time

 **Jeff** : You don’t seem to be having any more luck than me. I know you’re after someone else.

 **Jeff** : And you haven’t made a move either, so either lay off or do something about it.

 **Jeff:** I did give you permission to tell him for me.

 **Sophie** : Fine. If you're going to be a chicken about it, that's exactly what I'll do.

 **Jeff** : WHAT?

 **Jeff** : Sophie!!

 **Jeff** : What are you gonna do now??

 

~~~~

 

**51**

Blaine was exactly halfway through his pint of ice cream when Tina spoke again. “Alright, time to spill. What’s going on, Blaine? I’ve been really worried.”

Blaine sighed and stabbed his spoon viciously into the remaining ice cream. “It’s just stress, Tina, no big deal.”

“Blaine. Blaine, look at me.” She didn’t continue until he did. “You walked out of Glee club earlier this week. You’ve been snapping at everybody. The freshmen, I don’t really blame you. But you and Artie are _friends_. And I don’t know what I’ve done to piss you off, but you’ve even been short with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I really miss Kurt.”

“But he’s still around, isn’t he?” Blaine didn’t have the heart to answer. “Wait, has it really been that long since you’ve seen him? What happened?”

“Two and a half weeks. He’s always in Columbus at the theatre. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that he got this job and I’m really happy for him. And I know I have no right to complain to you with Mike being away. I just can’t get him to spend any time with me. I’ve even offered to drive out there a bunch of times. And then earlier today… He said he’d try to sneak out of rehearsal early, but he went out with the cast instead. And they’re posting all these photos of him and the lead actor on Facebook.”

“I’m so sorry, Blaine. But you know Kurt would never…”

“I know,” he interrupted quickly. “It just doesn’t help. I still feel so awful.”  
Tina put her ice cream on the side table, then leaned over to wrap an arm around his waist, her head pressed to his shoulder. “Oh, Blaine. I’m so sorry.” They lay there for a few moments before Tina suddenly giggled. “We are _so_ pathetic right now.”

That got him laughing too, for the first time in a while. “Yeah. I’m the lamest secret boyfriend ever.”

She sat up and planted a playful kiss on his cheek, and he retaliated by aiming a spoonful of ice cream at her nose. She laughed and ate it from the spoon. “Wanna watch another movie?”

“Yes. More Ryan Gosling!”

“If you _insist_.”

 

~~~~

 

**52**

**Sebastian** : I know it’s the middle of the day and you’re a good boy and paying attention in class, but I’m about five minutes away from keeling over in boredom.

 **Sebastian** : So please, for the love of god, help a guy out here.

 **Blaine:** I’m in math… I kinda have to pay attention

 **Sebastian** : I’m in French. The irony of my having to take French to graduate is truly astounding.

 **Sebastian** : I’m dying here, B. Save me.

 **Blaine** : I’m gonna get sent to detention if I get caught with my phone in class again

 **Sebastian** : So don’t get caught

 **Blaine** : Aren’t friends supposed to be good influences on each other?

 **Sebastian** : Clearly you’ve never been friends with me. I’m the little devil that sits on your shoulder and dispenses bad advice.

 **Blaine** : That’s the best description of you I’ve ever heard.

 **Sebastian** : I can be honest every once in a while.

 **Blaine** : Okay, since you’re being nice, I’ll keep you entertained for a little while.

 **Sebastian** : Thank you!

 **Blaine** : How are things with the Warblers since I last dropped by?

 **Sebastian** : We’re gonna kick some ass at sectionals, I can already tell

 **Sebastian** : I may not like “Payphone” much but we are fucking AMAZING singing it.

 **Blaine** : Well you better, you’re going to need all the practice you can get so when we crush you at Regionals it looks like a fair fight

 **Sebastian** : I like this side of you

 **Blaine** : You might be the only one.

 **Sebastian** : Oh please, wonderboy, like everyone isn’t in love with your sparkling personality

 **Sebastian** : I do know one person who’s fallen out of love with you, though.

 **Blaine** : If this is some attempt at sabotaging my relationship again I’m abandoning you to the perils of French class, so help me god

 **Sebastian** : I was gonna make a joke about how Trent has FINALLY moved on from you, and pretend like I can gossip and do whatever it is that your friends like to do, but okay

 **Blaine** : Wait Trent? What are you talking about?

 **Sebastian** : You don’t know?

 **Sebastian** : Dude, even *I* know Trent is in love with you, and I find it completely disgusting.

 **Blaine** : He is not. Why does everyone mess with me like this?

 **Sebastian** : Because you’re the most oblivious person on the planet?

 **Sebastian** : It’s sad and kind of cute, actually

 **Blaine** : Stop trying to flirt with me, it’s creepy now that you’re being nice

 **Sebastian** : Okay fine. I’m heading to my next class anyway. It’s calculus. Don’t judge me, but I really like this class

 **Blaine** : Don’t be a jerk

 **Sebastian** : Wait what did I do now?

 **Blaine** : I’m drowning just trying to get through pre-calc, you don’t get to brag about how much you like math. It makes me feel bad

 **Sebastian** : Why didn’t you mention that before? Come over sometime, I’ll help you

 **Blaine** : I’m not sure that’s the best idea

 **Sebastian** : Seriously, Blaine, at some point you’re gonna have to try giving me the benefit of the doubt. I’m offering to help you with your math homework.

 **Sebastian** : I can’t even hit on you during, there is NOTHING sexy about math. Even I can’t make that work

 **Blaine** : Wait, there’s a situation you can’t turn into innuendo?

 **Sebastian** : I’m sure I could try if it would make you happy

 **Blaine** : It wouldn’t

 **Sebastian** : Bring your homework anyway. Thursday? Come by Warbler practice, try to keep up with us while we run through “payphone”

 **Blaine** : I’ll think about it

 **Sebastian** : See you Thursday

 

~~~~

 

**53**

Two more days had gone by with little more than in-passing, “hey how are you, sorry I missed you again” texts from Kurt when Blaine finally got the message he’d been waiting for.

 **Kurt** : Guess who finally has a night off tomorrow??

He nearly dropped his phone in surprise. It had been three weeks and he was almost ready to give up hope of ever seeing his boyfriend again.

 **Blaine:** Please please please tell me I can come over or you can come over to my place.

 **Kurt** : Dad’s in Washington, Carol will be out with friends.

 **Blaine** : I’ll come right over after Glee

 **Kurt** : Yay!

 

~~~~

 

**54**

Glee rehearsal had never gone so slowly. “Edge of Glory” was a good song, and they sounded good, but it felt like his skin was buzzing with anticipation. He fidgeted uncontrollably, constantly fixing his clothes or checking his phone, unable to focus on the song. He _finally_ got to go see Kurt, touch him and kiss him and hold him again. The waiting was actually painful.

He rushed out at the end of rehearsal with hasty goodbyes and a quick kiss on Tina’s cheek (which had become one of the silly, friendly things they did on occasion when they were happy) and fired off an “I’m on my way over” text to Kurt as he jumped in the car. He tried not to speed but it was damn near impossible as he blasted the radio and drummed his hands on the steering wheel.

When he arrived he didn’t bother to knock—he hadn’t bothered to knock for months—just pulled the spare key from under the welcome mat. It was generally (if silently) acknowledged that Burt left it there for him. He unlocked the front door and went in, toeing off his shoes and dropping his bag in the entryway.  
“Hello?” he called, not needing to worry about anyone but Kurt hearing him.

There was no answer, so he headed up the stairs, taking care to make some noise so he didn’t scare Kurt half to death. He was all aflame with excitement. He could hardly stop himself from flinging open the door and pouncing on Kurt first thing. So he took a deep breath, ran a quick hand over his hair, and knocked on the bedroom door.

No answer.

“Kurt?” he called softly.

Still no answer.

He knew Kurt was home—his car had been in the driveway—so he turned the doorknob and opened the door, knocking gently on it as he did so.

Kurt was lying on top of his bed, asleep. He was fully dressed (which was a little disappointing—Blaine had a secret fantasy that Kurt would wait for him naked sometime) in a long sleeved white shirt, dark grey vest, and matching skinny jeans. He lay on his side, facing the door, one hand under his cheek. His hair was slightly rumpled, pieces falling over his forehead.

Disappointment and desire clashed with affection as Blaine looked at his boyfriend. Kurt wasn’t the kind of person to let his guard down often, even around him, even after they’d started sleeping together. He was achingly beautiful, even in his sleep.

Blaine closed the door and walked over as quietly as he could. Smiling softly, he leaned down and brushed his fingertips over Kurt’s cheek. The other boy stirred and his eyes fluttered open. His blue eyes flicked around, trying to figure out what was going on, before they locked on Blaine’s and he smiled. “Hey you.”

“Hey.”

Kurt scooted back and opened his arms, indicating that Blaine should join him. He did, happily, climbing into bed and burying his face in Kurt’s neck. He heard the whispered words and felt them in his boyfriend’s chest. “I missed you so much.”

He kissed Kurt’s neck gently, just above his collarbone, in the spot that usually made the other boy shiver and tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I’m so sorry. I never thought I’d be so busy…and now you’re here and I’m so tired…”

Blaine stopped what he was doing (the burning desire to kiss further down, to undo buttons, to run his hands over warm skin) and looked up into his boyfriend’s face.

Kurt was rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “I was at rehearsal until well after midnight. I didn’t get back until two, and then today I tried to get the last couple of renderings done and I must have fallen asleep…”

Blaine very suddenly realized what Kurt was getting at, and it was like cold water. After three weeks of absolutely no contact, they would be going no further that day. He tried not to show how frustrated he felt.

Kurt sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really glad you’re here, though.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around Kurt’s waist, pulling him closer. “I’m glad I’m here, too. I’m sorry you’re so worn out. Maybe we could just watch a movie or something.”

“That would be nice…”

 

~~~~

 

**55**

**Blaine** : Hi. It’s your turn to keep me from dying of frustration.

 **Blaine** : Because right now, I don’t know who else I could possibly talk to. Which is a sad, sad statement.

 **Sebastian** : What’s up, B?

 **Sebastian** : This better be good, I’ve got a sexy and desperate blond eyeing me across the room

 **Blaine** : Never mind. I don’t want to have this conversation

 **Sebastian** : You’re the one who came to me, Blaine. Either come through or don’t… but make it fast. Have I mentioned this guy is really desperate?

 **Sebastian** : But seeing as it’s you, I’ll give you one more chance to prove why I should pay attention to you

 **Blaine** : So I never, ever say this kind of thing

 **Blaine** : But right now I’m wondering if sexual frustration has ever killed anyone.

 **Sebastian:** Sorry I just dropped my phone

 **Sebastian** : You have my undivided attention.

 **Blaine** : Shit I don’t know why I said that, go back to your blond

 **Sebastian** : Oh no no no, this is MUCH more interesting. Please, continue.

 **Blaine** : I don’t think we should really be having this conversation. I’m the one who made the “no innuendo” rule after all

 **Sebastian** : Who said anything about innuendo? I’m on my best behavior

 **Sebastian** : In this conversation, at least. What I’m planning on doing to this guy…well, you don’t need to know about that.

 **Blaine** : What if I wanted to know?

 **Sebastian** : If this is the part where you tell me about your fetish for dirty talk, let me warn you it may actually kill me.

 **Blaine** : At least you’d die happy

 **Sebastian** : There is that.

 **Sebastian** : But if you’d like to know…

 **Blaine** : Sure, what the hell.

 **Sebastian** : He and I are still playing the “I want to fuck this guy, but I’m too proud to make the first move” game

 **Sebastian** : We’ll probably circle around each other for another few songs or so. He’s the “stick to the wall” type, so I’m gonna go grab some random guy and dance

 **Sebastian** : Then he’ll come up and grab me, and then the real game begins.

 **Blaine** : Does that really work?

 **Sebastian** : Never fails.

 **Blaine** : Seriously?

 **Sebastian** : I’m hot, I can dance, it always works

 **Blaine** : So what do you do then?

 **Sebastian** : I’m starting to get the feeling you haven’t gotten any action in a while

 **Sebastian** : I’ll refrain from commenting on how much of a waste that is.

 **Blaine** : Three whole weeks away from my boyfriend and when I finally get to see him, alone in his house all night, he doesn’t want to touch me.

 **Sebastian** : Look wonderboy, we’re not going to have that conversation

 **Sebastian** : First of all because I REALLY don’t want to think about your boyfriend

 **Sebastian** : Second of all because blondie seems to be skipping a few steps and making his move

 **Sebastian** : See you tomorrow, wonderboy

 

~~~~

 

**56**

Blaine didn’t know how he could possibly face Sebastian ever again.

When he woke up and re-read the conversation they’d had the night before, he was completely mortified. There were very few ways he could have handled the previous night’s frustration and disappointment any worse. Having a conversation with Sebastian about his one-night stands was definitely in the top ten.

He sat in pre-calc that afternoon trying to keep his mind on the subject. What he really needed to do was focus on the work. He did _not_ need to think about Sebastian. Unfortunately, due to

the conversation they’d had a few days before, thoughts of Sebastian seemed to be tied up with thoughts of calculus, which was confusing and annoying and weird.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket, surprising him and making him sit bolt upright, the feeling traveling all the way up his spine to the roots of his hair. He glanced around guiltily, sinking back into the desk, to try to see if anyone noticed. No one had, so he carefully slipped the phone out of his pocket and opened the message.

 **Sebastian** : So last night was interesting.

Blaine felt his face flush. Oh, god. That was the _last_ thing he needed! He was about to turn his phone off when it buzzed again.

 **Sebastian** : Look, I’m sure you’re dying of embarrassment right now. So I promise I’ll never mention it again if you don’t want me to. As far as I’m concerned, it was just guy talk.

 **Blaine** : I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t mention it again.

 **Sebastian** : My god, you actually responded.

 **Sebastian** : Since we got the awkwardness out of the way early, are you still coming over this afternoon?

 **Blaine** : I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

 **Sebastian** : Neither is being friends with me, but you seem to have gotten over that.

 **Blaine** : Not the same argument.

 **Sebastian** : Look, Blaine, either come over or don’t, it’s your choice. But I promise I won’t bring up what was said last night if you don’t want me to, because friends ignore each others’ questionable decisions.

 **Sebastian** : And I know you could really use the help with your math homework, don’t lie.

 **Blaine** : I am kinda dying here

 **Sebastian** : See you at 5

 

~~~~

 

**57**

The first thing Blaine heard when he stepped out of his car in the parking lot was two voices shouting his name. “Blaaaaaaaaaine!”

He turned to see Sophie and Wes striding toward him, arms around each others’ waists, grinning and waving with their free hands. He smiled. Was Sophie on such intimate terms with _all_ the Warblers? Maybe it was true what Jeff said—she always had her hands on someone.

They immediately separated to wrap their arms around him, one on either side, and as a group turned toward the school.

“So,” Wes began, “If you keep visiting, I feel it’s only fair to warn you that we’re gonna keep you.”

Sophie giggled. “You’ll be like a pet. Our little mascot.” She squeezed his side.

Wes laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Sophie, but you’re the mascot.” They stuck their tongues out at each other over Blaine’s head. “But Blaine. Seriously. I don’t have a roommate.”

He chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”

“Sir, you have given me hope. So what brought you this week? Don’t you have to prep for your sectionals competition?”  
“We already are. We never rehearse on Thursdays, though. Artie—he’s one of our leaders—decided that we needed one day off a week. Otherwise we’d probably end up tearing each other apart.”

“I understand that. We had a lot of those days last year.”

“What are you talking about?” Sophie interjected. “You _still_ have a lot of those days.”

“Yeah, well your brother is _still_ a jackass.”

“I never said he wasn’t.”

Blaine decided it was best to change the subject. “But Sophie, I should be asking you the same question. Don’t you have school or something?”

Sophie laughed. “I’m not here as much as you seem to think. I’m only here Thursdays, sometimes Tuesdays if they really need the help, like right before Sectionals, I’ll be here all the time. I’m in the dance studio Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays after school. Plus all weekend, of course.”

“She teaches ballet lessons to four year olds,” Wes added. “It’s adorable.”

“I am sickeningly cute.”

“That’s still a lot. Are you even allowed to be here working with them? I _know_ there are rules against having girls outside of school hours.”

She shrugged. “You know, now that I think about it, I never asked. I just started showing up. Wes, am I allowed to be here?”

Wes laughed. “No. Definitely not.”

“Good thing you like me then, isn’t it?”

Wes never got a chance to respond, as they’d gotten to the rehearsal room by that point. Wes shoved the door open and used the arm that had been around Blaine’s waist to push him into the room. “Hey everyone. Look who I found!”

He immediately turned Blaine over to the group and slid his arm back around Sophie’s waist. Blaine thought he heard her giggle before he was enveloped in hugs. He did catch the pair walking over to the piano, Wes presenting Sebastian with his sister with a cheeky, overdramatic flair.

“I’ve hand-delivered her, safe and sound, as ordered.”

Sebastian just stood, hands in his pockets, eyebrow raised, as Sophie giggled again and kissed Wes’s cheek. “Thank you, darling,” she teased as he blushed and fled while trying to make it look like he wasn’t fleeing. Blaine definitely caught the meaningful glance exchanged between the twins, which quickly turned into a smirk before Sebastian gave his sister a quick hug and Blaine was once again distracted by Jeff and Nick pulling him toward the piano.

They all warmed up together. The freshmen and sophomores had quickly gotten absorbed into the rest of the group and seemed much more at ease, jostling and distracting each other (enough that Trent reached over in the middle of scales and punched a blond boy on the shoulder, leveling him with a glare, which made Sebastian stop what he was doing and step out of the group because he was laughing so hard). Even Sophie joined in near the end, having stripped off the outer layers of her uniform down to shirtsleeves and her skirt, though her voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Blaine saw Dave nudge her with an elbow out of the corner of his eye. They grinned at each other.

Trent finished playing them through warm-ups and gave Jeff some sort of signal. The other boy fished his iPod from his pocket and started flipping through it. “Alright y’all. Random song time.”

It was a tradition Blaine had started rather accidentally: after warm-ups finished, someone would play a random song they really liked and everyone would sing along as hard and loud as they could. Dancing and generally acting like idiot teenage boys was greatly encouraged. He was surprised it had stuck under Sebastian’s leadership, since the song choices generally tended to skew toward Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and, on one memorable occasion, the Janelle Monáe song “Tightrope,” which had gotten Jeff a sprained ankle.

The song that blasted out of the tiny iPod (seriously, Jeff HAD to have modified it, it was _really loud_ ) was much more intense. Blaine recognized it immediately as “Born to Run.” It was a surprising choice from Jeff (he would have expected it from Trent—yes, really) but it immediately fired up the group, who started singing along (some of the braver guys singing it acapella style) and dancing like crazy. Sophie was yelling along with the rest of them, hand in hand with Dave, pulling him through a bunch of far too complicated dance moves. Sophie could _dance_ and Dave could move well enough, even if he had no idea what he was doing, and they were both giggling so hard it didn’t matter much anyway.

Blaine joined in with Nick, Jeff, and a couple of the new boys trying to work out an a capella version of the music. Even if they were just making it up as they went along, they sounded good, and it was so much _fun_ to be back in the group. He didn’t have to lead this time. There was no pressure. It was just a matter of singing his heart out.

The song came to a chaotic end, with everyone laughing and shouting over each other. Sebastian got up from the couch (Blaine wasn’t surprised he’d sat out Random Song Time, as it would require him making a fool of himself) and hollered for quiet.

“Alright, everyone. Calm the fuck down. It’s time for serious rehearsing. We’re working on dancing today.”

The boys grumbled a little as they formed into a group.

“Oh, and Sophie,” Sebastian added loudly so everyone can hear, in his best antagonistic tone of voice. “Try and keep it slightly less _gay_ this time. Let’s remember what happened during the first ‘Glad you Came’ rehearsal.”

In the back of the room, Trent laughed loudly, then mumbled a “sorry.” Sophie stuck her tongue out at her brother then grabbed Jeff, pulling him to the front of the group.

Dave leaned in to whisper in Blaine’s ear. “What happened during the first ‘Glad you Came’ rehearsal?”

“I have no idea. I guess I should be happy I wasn’t here for it.”

Jeff turned around when he heard them. “Long story short? Sophie dances like a stripper.”

“Alright, hush,” Sophie interrupted, punching Jeff in the arm. “Dancing time, bitches.”

 

~~~~

 

**58**

The first time Sophie came to Warbler rehearsal was October of her junior year. Sebastian had all but begged her to join him. Hell, he’d even _asked_ the other Warblers (only a few of them, he had appearances to keep up) if it would be alright.

She was doing terribly at Crawford. She was still barely speaking, which meant that she hadn’t been making any friends. The only person she really talked to was him, and their conversations were still tense and stilted, the walls of things left unsaid piled up between them.

So one day in mid-October, Sebastian drove over to Crawford and picked her up after her last class, which finished about an hour after the classes at Dalton. He got a whispered “hi” from her as she got in the car, and when she didn’t answer any questions about how classes were going or if people were being nice to her, he’d proceeded into a running monologue about the Warblers. He described each of the members with more than his usual snark (“Trent you’ll _love_. He’s so gay I’m convinced he’s a My Little Pony”) in an attempt to get a laugh, then went on to tell her the group dynamics, and how antiquated the rules were, and how he planned to shake things up. Nothing got a response.

He was in a pretty sour mood by the time they got to Dalton, but he put his arm around her shoulders as they walked into the building, giving her arm what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze as they went into the practice room.

“Hey everyone. This is Sophie, my twin sister.” Sophie gave a tiny smile and a little fluttery wave, but didn’t say a word. Sebastian squeezed her shoulder again. “Like I mentioned, she um… She doesn’t talk much. Kind of shy. I figured she could sit in on rehearsal. She’s a dancer,” he added by way of explanation. “Might be able to help us out.”

Trent was the first to react and he jumped up. “Oh my _god_ ,” he said, taking Sophie’s hands in his. “She’s adorable. Can I keep her?”

The “I told you so” was written all over Sebastian’s face as Sophie looked up at him inquiringly. Then she turned back and gave Trent a little smile.

“Trent, while I appreciate that you’ve already taking a liking to her, let the girl walk in the door first.”

Trent turned his best sassy bitch face on Sebastian. “Well no _wonder_ she doesn’t talk much, you don’t let her.” He turned back to Sophie. “Just stick with me, darlin’, I’ll make sure you fit right in here.” With that, he took the girl’s hand and led her over to one of the couches. He had been a little under the weather, and Sebastian had forbidden him from participating until he got better, and not because he was concerned for the other boy’s health. (“You’re fucking _wheezing_. Sit your ass down!”) It had been a tense conversation, but then Trent had just taken over a couch for a few days and watched.

Sebastian would never admit it, but he knew Sophie was in good hands, so he started rehearsal. They were just beginning to work on “Uptown Girl.” In fact, that day was the first time they ran through the whole song. Sebastian let himself forget about everything else but the music. He came across as a total hardass when running rehearsal, but that was because (and he would never admit this either) he really _loved_ the whole thing and wanted to make sure they were doing it right. Plus, without Trent on the piano, it meant one more thing for him to do. So he could be forgiven for completely forgetting about his sister for a few hours.

Really. He could.

Considering how awkward some of the past rehearsals had been, they sounded really good. No, fuck it, they sounded _amazing_. That Nick kid was really talented. Sebastian hadn’t believed him when he’d told him he’d auditioned for solos “probably a dozen fucking times, honestly” and never gotten a single one.

When they finished the third run through, absolutely nailing it, they heard applause coming from the other side of the room. Trent and Sophie were both clapping for them enthusiastically. Sophie had the biggest grin on her face, the kind of joy Sebastian hadn’t seen from her in far too long. He smiled to her, and she smiled back, her nose wrinkling in the way he knew mirrored his own. He watched Trent lean over and whisper something in her ear which caused her to collapse in a fit of giggles, covering her mouth with her hands the way she used to back when she was so much happier.

He _knew_ she was in good hands.

When rehearsal ended he told her it was time to head out and grabbed her bag for her, which he’d done ever since they were kids. She’d nodded a half-hearted “okay” and was about to leave with him when she suddenly held up one finger, indicating that he had to wait. Then she turned and threw her arms around Trent’s neck, giving him a squeeze. The other boy laughed and hugged her back. “I hope you’ll come back again soon.”

She nodded and gave a lopsided grin. “I have to teach you all how to dance, don’t I?” she asked, very quietly.

Trent laughed. “I hope that’s a promise. I don’t think your brother is going to be the best teacher.”

“I’m a _fantastic_ leader, for your information,” Sebastian interrupted. Sophie just raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, fine, I’m a lousy dance teacher. It’s just so…”

“Gay?” Trent supplied.  
“Yeah. Come on, kid, time to go if I’m gonna make it back before _curfew_.” The last word was loaded with sarcasm.

She gave the group one last wave before following him out the door. Sebastian turned his head just before the door closed behind them and mouthed a “thank you” to Trent.

“I told you you’d _love_ him,” he teased as he slipped his hand into hers.

She just smiled and elbowed him gently.

 

~~~~

 

**59**

He was rusty. He was really, really rusty. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been dancing with New Directions—there had been a few times, like the week they’d covered “Saturday Night Fever,” that had gotten truly crazy—but the Warblers had really stepped up their game and he wasn’t prepared.

So after what felt like the longest rehearsal of his life, he was relieved when Sebastian dismissed the group. Then the Warbler turned to him with that irresistible smirk. “Still think you’re going to crush us at Regionals?”

Blaine laughed. “To be honest, I’m not so sure anymore. You guys really stepped it up.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to laugh. “Just admit it, already. You should have never left.”

That was uncomfortably close to talking about Kurt, so Blaine decided to change the subject. “Sure, if you say so. Now, there was some awfully big talk about your math skills earlier today. Care to help a guy out?”

“Yeah, sure.” There was a mess of noise from the piano as a few of the remaining Warblers started up a song. “One of those side rooms should be empty.”

They always were at that time of evening, when most of the boys were either having dinner or ordering in pizza, so they grabbed a table in the first room they came to.

“Alright,” Sebastian began as he gestured for Blaine to hand over his books. “What are you working on?”

“Pre-calculus?” he answered as he handed them over.

“Specifically…?”

“…That’s sorta where I get lost.”

Sebastian chuckled and sat in one of the chairs arrayed around the table. “Alright, well, at least that’s a start.”

Blaine sat at the next chair over, which put a good foot of space between them. “Yeah, I kinda suck at this whole ‘math’ thing.”

Sebastian had already flicked open the textbook to the page Blaine had marked when he looked up. He saw the empty space between them and frowned, then reached over, grabbed the arm of Blaine’s chair, and pulled it next to his. Blaine gasped. “What are you—“

“Re _lax_ , wonderboy. I promise I won’t bite. How do you expect me to teach you anything with you acting like I’m contagious?”

“I’m not really…”

“Blaine.” The insistence in his voice made Blaine look up. “It’s _fine_. I told you, even I can’t turn pre-calculus into innuendo. I’m just here to help. So. Since we got that out of the way, how about you show me exactly where you’re getting lost and I’ll see what I can do.”

Blaine took a deep breath. This was probably the part where he’d have to learn to trust Sebastian. The other boy had been insisting for weeks that Blaine give him the benefit of the doubt, that he could trust him, that it would be alright for him to let his guard down, for just a second, just long enough for them to be…what? Friends?

“The previous chapter.” He leaned over and turned the pages. “Right about… here.”

“This stuff?”

“Yeah. Like I said… I’m not really good at math. I feel really stupid.”

Sebastian shrugged and started scanning over the pages and the scrawled notes Blaine had managed to take in class. “You’re not _stupid_ , Blaine. So you’re not good at math. I’m sure you’re great at plenty of other things.” He looked up from the book and caught Blaine’s eye. “Let me guess. You play, what, three instruments?”

“Four. How did you know?”

“I know you love music, and a guy like you isn’t the type to settle for just singing. So I’m guessing guitar and piano are definitely two. What else?”

“Uh… the violin. And I played drums as a kid.”

“No shit.” Sebastian grinned. “You must have been a complete spaz.”

Blaine chuckled. “Yeah. It was deafening.”

“Alright, so this is what’s messing with you?” Sebastian asked as he pointed to a section of the textbook Blaine had marked.

“Wait. You don’t get to change the subject that easily.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him. “Fair’s fair. You have to tell me what you’re good at.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m good at _everything_.”

“Uh uh. You’re the one who says I have to trust you. Being friends is sort of a two-way street.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Really, wonderboy?”

Blaine sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, striking a self-deprecating “tough guy” pose. It had exactly its intended effect, which was to get Sebastian to laugh.

“Okay, fine. But if you tell _anyone_ what I’m about to say… I’ll have to come up with something. Fuck. You’re making this ‘being nice’ thing really difficult.” Sebastian flipped a couple pages in the textbook, then ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll admit this much because a bunch of the guys already know. The one thing I’m really good at is photography.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t act _surprised_ or anything. And yes.”

Blaine’s mind went a mile a minute over that information. “I… I didn’t expect that.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Very few people do. But there you have it. Sebastian Smythe, _artist_.”

“But… I… Wow. Okay. So… What do you like to photograph?”

“Architecture. Especially when I was living in Paris. Good architecture is easy to get a picture of. It’s beautiful on its own. Plus, unlike people, it doesn’t talk back, or want to check the pictures you took, or try to distract you from your homework.”

The slight hint of friendly sarcasm was enough to let Blaine know that it was time to get off that subject. He’d hit on something really personal, it seemed, and it was probably best to back off for a little while.

His curiosity was definitely piqued, though. Sometime—maybe when he and Sebastian knew each other a little better, and could talk about personal things—he’d ask to see a picture.

…Wait. When he and Sebastian knew each other better?

Where the hell did that come from?


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings for this chapter: Homophobia, unsupportive families, references to bullying, super brief reference to Dave's hospital stay.**

 

**60**

**Jeff** : Hey. It’s me, Jeff. Remember when you said you were available to talk? If you have some time I could really use some advice.

Jeff must have sent the text right as Blaine was leaving Dalton, because he didn’t read it until an hour later. He had driven the half hour home and jumped in front of his laptop to Skype with Kurt, who was stuck at the theater still but wanted to say hi. Kurt had introduced him to Johnny, who had been sitting at the makeshift table. (“That’s Johnny. As you can see, he graduated to fabric scissors today. We’re all very proud of him. _Johnny, what the hell? You did NOT just wave with scissors! Am I gonna have to take those away from you AGAIN_?”) Blaine couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his chest. Johnny seemed friendly enough, but wasn’t that guy _ever_ on stage—and away from Kurt??

So when he finally checked his phone and saw the message from Jeff, he felt guilty.

 **Blaine** : Yeah, I’m home so you can call if you want.

His phone rang almost instantly, causing another sweep of guilt. Poor Jeff must have been waiting for his reply.

“Hey Jeff. What’s up?”

“Hey Blaine. It was good to see you at rehearsal today.”

“Yeah, I never realized how much I missed you guys! You’ve all gotten really good. You guys always bring it, but I’m kinda worried about competing against you this year. Oh wait. Don’t tell anyone I said that, okay?”

He heard Jeff suppressing his laughter. “I won’t. Sebastian would never let you live it down.”

“Probably not. So what’s up? Is everything okay with you?”

Jeff sighed and went silent for a moment. Blaine was about to check if his phone was disconnected when he heard the other boy’s voice again, quieter this time. “Can I ask you a question? It’s kinda personal. Not like creepy or anything. I mean. Just kinda serious.”

“Jeff, calm down. It’s okay. You can ask me whatever you need to.”

“Okay.” Jeff released a long breath. “Thanks. I just don’t know who else I could talk to, you know? I mean, normally when something’s bugging me I go hang out with Sebastian. He’s not really the talking type. He just kinda listens. I know you don’t like him much and I don’t blame you, but he’s really helped me out for the last, like, six months or so. But this time… I can’t ask him about this.”

Blaine decided not to focus on the hundred and one questions that took over his mind when Jeff described Sebastian. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I just… You’re, like, the most out and proud, confident guy I know. And I kinda thought, hey, that can be me, too. After I came out last year, and everyone was so nice and so supportive of me, I thought, you know, I can do this. I can be me and everyone will be okay with it and it’ll be awesome. But right now, I’m kinda stuck.”

Blaine waited for more, then realized it was his turn to jump in. “On what?”

“This is where it gets awkward. Um. When you told Kurt you liked him… How did you do it? How did you know it was the right time?”

“I um…” Blaine chuckled at the memory. How his hands shook. How he blurted out the words he’d held in the entire afternoon. “I didn’t, actually.”

“You didn’t? You just sorta dropped it on him out of the blue, or what?”

“Something like that. I didn’t really take the time to think it over. In retrospect… Yeah, that would have been a good idea.”

“Oh. No offense, Blaine, but that’s not helpful at all.”

“Sorry. But… If we’re talking about who I _think_ we’re talking about, and you know how oblivious I am so I’d appreciate if you could confirm my suspicions, I really think you should just sit down and talk with him.”

“We _are_ talking about who you think we’re talking about. Unless you’re trying to get me out on a date with Trent again. Cause once was enough. And yeah, that’s what Sophie told me too. I just don’t know how.”

“I think the best thing is just to be honest. Just sit down with him and tell him the honest truth. That you’ve been friends for a long time, but you have stronger feelings for him, and that you feel you need to tell him.”

“But… what if it’s weird? I’m scared he won’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Jeff, you guys have been inseparable since well before I knew you. First of all, I can’t believe he doesn’t have some idea by now. Even _I_ picked up on it, and I’m _me_. Second of all, he’s your best friend. Being honest and understanding each other’s feelings is part of being best friends. Even if he doesn’t feel the same about you, he’s not going to end however many years of friendship over it. You guys will work it out.”

“You don’t think he likes me that way, do you.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, I haven’t asked him. But I have this sneaking feeling that he’ll surprise you.”

“God, you sound like Sophie.”

“She’s a smart girl. You should listen to her.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I just need to figure out what I’m gonna say.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be much help on that front, but I’m here if you need someone to listen. Though if I can change the subject for a moment, you should _really_ stop cuddling with Sebastian’s sister at rehearsal. He seems a little overprotective.”

“That’s an _understatement_. He told me once that when they were younger he used to get sent to detention all the time for beating up the boys who picked on her. I think she used to do the same thing for him, too.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Have you ever seen them together? For more than, like, two minutes at rehearsal. He’s like a totally different person when she’s around. He’s not so mean. That’s the only reason we started getting along with him again, is ‘cause of Sophie. She’s so sweet, and the way he takes care of her, we couldn’t help it. You’re not mad that he’s still a Warbler, are you? After everything that happened?”

“No, of course not. He apologized. Dozens of times, actually. And I forgave him.”

“Okay, good. Cause we were all really worried when we invited you and Kurt the first time.”

“You didn’t have to be. He and I talk some now. I guess we’re almost like friends. We’re working on it.”

“Wow. That’s incredible. You’re a _really_ nice guy, Blaine. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to him again.”

“Yeah, well… I’ve been learning not to hold grudges so much lately.”

“Well, you’re a lot nicer than I am. I gotta say I was surprised that you two hung out today after rehearsal.”

“That was—he was just helping me with my homework.”

“Oh. Someone really oughta start paying that guy. Not that he needs it, but he helps me and Nick with history, and sometimes we have big group study sessions, and if he’s helping you with something, he may as well just give up and become an official tutor.”

Blaine chuckled. “I don’t know. I think it might be a one-time thing. Kurt’s not going to be too fond of the idea.”

Oh, shit. He never told Kurt.

Well, that was bad.

“…I gotta go. Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks so much, Blaine. I really appreciate this.”

“Any time. I mean that.”

“Thanks. Tell Kurt I miss him and he should come visit.”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

“See you at rehearsal.”

Jeff hung up before Blaine could respond.

 

~~~~

 

**61**

** Warnings: Mentions of Dave’s hospital stay. **

 

 **Sophie** : Dave my darling

 **Dave** : Hi Sophie

 **Sophie** : So I hear interesting rumors coming from Dalton

 **Dave** : I’m sure

 **Sophie** : I’ve been chatting with Trent

 **Dave** : Oh god

 **Sophie** : I didn’t even have to say nothing to no one

 **Sophie** : He was just chaaaaaaatting away

 **Dave** : Oh my god Sophie don’t do this to me

 **Sophie** : Sorry, I don’t know your boundaries and stuff quite yet so if this is making you uncomfortable just say so

 **Sophie** : I’m sowwy :(

 **Dave** : It’s okay

 **Dave** : Just don’t wanna talk about it right now

 **Sophie** : Okay, that’s fine. How is everything else?

 **Dave** : Really good. The classes are hard though

 **Sophie** : Yeah, I know. I write Sebastian’s English papers sometimes

 **Dave** : WHAT?

 **Sophie** : Yep

 **Dave** : Can I use that to blackmail him?

 **Sophie** : No, cause he does my math homework in return

 **Dave** : Oh ok. That might be bad if it got out

 **Sophie** : Yeah I’d definitely fail math, he’d fail English, all around not much fun, cause I’m barely hanging on in history

 **Dave** : I can help you

 **Sophie** : Are you serious? That would be awesome

 **Dave** : Yeah, no problem. I never got a chance to thank you properly for the flowers and the present you sent me last year.

 **Sophie** : Oh sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for that.

 **Dave** : Yeah I do. It was really nice of you.

 **Dave** : I mean some of the kids from McKinley sent me stuff, but you didn’t even know me

 **Sophie** : It was just some junk food and a book, it’s really not that big a deal

 **Dave** : Yeah I know, it just meant a lot to me.

 **Sophie** : Well I know how much it sucks to be stuck in a hospital

 **Dave** : Sebastian did mention you’d had a couple knee surgeries. One of the other guys on the McKinley football team had that surgery, he was PISSED ‘cause he had to stay off the field for the rest of the season

 **Sophie** : Yeah I’ve had both knees done

 **Sophie** : Those were the short stays though, they send you home after

 **Dave** : Ever stayed overnight? It’s kinda creepy. Especially since my dad brought my walking dead comic books

 **Dave** : Every time the bed creaked I thought I was gonna cry

 **Sophie** : Aww poor baby!

 **Dave** : Don’t judge me

 **Sophie** : I’m not. And yeah, overnights get creepy. I had a private room this one time and all I could hear was the wind

 **Sophie** : And Sebastian snoring. He refused to leave for the entire three days

 **Dave** : Wow, three days? Nasty surgery?

 **Sophie** : Something like that.

 **Dave** : Oh my god I’m sorry it’s none of my business I shouldn’t have asked

 **Sophie** : It’s okay. The boys talk about absolutely everything, guess it’s rubbing off on both of us, huh?

 **Dave** : I guess so. I’m still getting used to that

 **Sophie** : It means they trust you

 **Dave** : I really hope so

 

 

 **Trent** : WELL??

 **Sophie** : Give it time. Just give it time.

 

~~~~

 

**62**

**Blaine** : Hey, thanks for the help yesterday!

 **Blaine** : It was really nice of you. I totally nailed the quiz I had today.

 **Blaine** : And I’d really like to see some of your photos, sometime, if you’re okay with it.

 **Sebastian** : Hey B, no problem.

 **Sebastian** : And I’ll think about it. I’ve got a big assignment due Monday, so I might not have anything to show for a while.

 **Sebastian** : But I’ll think about it.

 

~~~~

 

**63**

October snuck up on Blaine. Any other year, he would have responded that that was a stupid thing to say. Months do not “sneak,” they plod on relentlessly forward. They are, above all, predictable.

It was mostly that, every other year, Blaine was a more organized person. He also, normally, had more free time to himself, where he could breathe and rest. Put down some sort of anchor in time.

This year, though, his routine kept him skimming along. There was school, of course, and four days a week after school (and, occasionally, in the morning, or the middle of the day, or whenever Artie could drag them all to the choir room) there was glee. Thursdays he went over to Dalton to hang out with the Warblers, then spent the rest of the evening doing homework with Sebastian. This was usually the only time during the week he actually got homework done before midnight. Weekends were chaos. He spent a lot of time with Tina, especially once she started working on her Sectionals solo, though sometimes they gave up singing and watched movies and gossiped. Cooper came to visit for one disastrous, crazy weekend that Blaine _really_ didn’t want to think about. (They hadn’t fought. They’d gotten along fantastically. But Cooper’s idea of ‘taking his baby brother out for a good time’ had resulted in Blaine showing up late to class on Monday wearing the same clothes he’d slept in, which included a tee-shirt he’d never seen before.) He grabbed lunch or coffee or went to the movies with a few of the Warblers (generally just Nick, Jeff, and Trent, though Dave and even Sebastian joined once). And between those times where he was out, his phone never stopped buzzing.

The phone was mostly Kurt. Blaine had gently mentioned how much he missed talking to him, and Kurt had been trying to make up for it with a steady stream of texts, picture messages, and Skype dates. They’d managed to see each other a couple of times—dinner one Saturday when rehearsal got out early, and one Sunday Blaine drove over to Columbus to tour the theatre. They’d been working on “Kiss Me” and “Ladies in Their Sensitivities,” so he’d only met a few of the actors, and Johnny wasn’t there. Blaine would have felt a lot better if he’d been able to see Johnny face to face. He knew he was being ridiculous, but still.

Diane, the girl playing Johanna, didn’t stop gushing to Blaine every moment she wasn’t on stage. She cheerfully showed them around, giving a running commentary that had both boys rolling their eyes fondly. Good Lord, she was high-pitched, but she was such a sweetheart and so complimentary of Kurt that Blaine tried to ignore it.

When she threw open the closet Kurt was using to store the muslin mock-ups of his costumes, Blaine stopped dead. Taped up inside the doors were photocopies of all Kurt’s designs. He’d never seen them all at once. Diane’s nattering voice faded. It was one of those beautiful Hollywood moments where someone is so blown away that the world ceases to exist for a few seconds.

The renderings were _beautiful_. They were so highly detailed that they seemed to jump right off the page. They were dark, as was fitting for the show, and macabre and, in one case (It was labeled “Sweeney, Act 2, ‘Judge’s Return’”) spattered with blood. But everywhere were touches that were so distinctly _Kurt_ , a careful balance of historical accuracy and wild imagination.

Suddenly an arm flashed across his line of vision and the moment was over. He was back in a narrow hallway with Kurt at his side and Diane was showing off one of the muslin mock-ups—her Act 1 dress, he assumed. Even in the dull tan cotton it was a stunning dress.

“Want me to model it for you?”

“Diane, sweetheart,” Kurt gently interrupted. “I told you, it’s not quite ready yet. I haven’t fixed the sleeves.”

The pretty blonde girl looked disappointed, but hung the dress back up where she found it. “I just want your boyfriend to see how much we love you!” She turned to Blaine. “He’s so talented. We’re so lucky to have him.”

“Yeah,” Blaine managed to say, glancing over at Kurt with a huge, affectionate smile. “I know. He really is amazing.” Kurt leaned over and gently nudged him with a shoulder before Diane was off again, dragging them around and twittering away in her high-pitched voice.

He had to leave after the tour, since Kurt needed to make some major changes to Diane’s dress while she was offstage. They walked out to the parking lot holding hands, glowing in each other’s presence.

“I miss you so much,” Kurt murmured as they stood next to Blaine’s car, hands clasped between them.

“I miss you too.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come by and see you more. I feel like we hardly get to spend time together anymore.”

“No, don’t apologize.” Blaine stepped forward, almost but not quite closing the space between them. “This is important. And I can tell you’re really happy to be working here. And I’m so, _so_ proud of you.”

Kurt smiled, but seemed upset. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. And I love you too.”

They had just leaned in for a kiss when Diane stepped out the side door. “Kuuuuuurt! I’m offstaaaaaage!” She stopped, embarrassed. “Oh my god. Sorry,” she shouted before slamming the door behind her.

Kurt chuckled. “I should go.”

“Okay. Have fun. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

They broke apart only reluctantly, Kurt giving Blaine’s hand one last squeeze before dashing for the stage door. Blaine watched him go, savoring every last second before climbing into his car.

His phone was buzzing in his pocket. He turned the key in car’s ignition, blasting the radio to life before checking it.

 **Sebastian** : So, what are you doing Saturday afternoon?

 

~~~~

 

**64**

Saturday dawned bright, silvery, and unseasonably cold, but the air seemed, to Blaine at least, full of promise.

He didn’t know when he’d started looking forward to seeing Sebastian, but there was a sense of nervous anticipation, like a tingle at the end of his fingers. It felt like a happy buzz had suffused his skin.

Sebastian hadn’t given him many details, just the instructions to show up at Dalton and to bring a camera if he wanted. (There was a quick follow up. “Oh, and don’t let your boyfriend pick your shoes. Wear something comfortable.”) He hoped that the part about bringing his camera meant that this was a photography expedition. Sebastian had, once, mentioned that he liked to run off and spend the whole day on an assignment, that it helped to get the hell away from the dorms and see something different.

He took entirely too long to get dressed. He had to stop when he was halfway clothed because he realized he was trying _way_ too hard. _For God’s sake_ , he thought with a wry grin, _I’m just going to see Sebastian, dressing to impress might not be the best idea_. So in the end he threw on a pair of skinny jeans, black Converse, and a red tee shirt under his black and gray stripe hoodie. He had put only enough gel in his hair to keep it under control, but it was still curly and a little wild. He was finding, oddly enough, that he liked it that way.

He drove over to Dalton blasting music, singing at the top of his lungs, trying to ignore the buzzing feeling under his skin. It got worse the closer he got to his old school, so he just sang louder and louder, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. He probably looked, to other drivers, like a complete idiot, but he’d never cared much.

By the time he pulled into the parking lot he’d sung entirely too much Katy Perry for one morning. (Well, that was a new feeling.) He parked and fired off a quick text to Sebastian (“You never told me where to meet you! I’m here.”), deciding to wait in the car because the wind had picked up.

 **Sebastian** : Shit, you’re early. A little enthusiastic?

 **Blaine** : I’m not early, it’s after 11. YOU are LATE.

 **Sebastian** : I’ll be out in a second, meet me by the parking lot and we’ll take my car

He waited, humming under his breath and checking facebook on his phone (Mercedes posted a few pictures from LA, Finn was doing well at Fort Benning though he complained about not getting enough to eat, Kurt was tagged in a blurry photo running around backstage with Diane) until he saw Sebastian swaggering down the steps to the parking lot.

He met him halfway, trying to keep himself from running (okay, that was _really_ weird. Calm down. Caaaaaalm down).

“Hey.” Sebastian was grinning, having apparently noticed his enthusiasm.

“Hey.” Blaine took a long look at the other boy. He was casually dressed too, in dark jeans and an emerald green polo under a black leather jacket. His hair wasn’t done and flopped over his forehead, almost covering one of his eyes. A camera bag was slung over one shoulder. How was it that he managed to look so _good_ without even trying??

“You ready to go?” Sebastian asked as he twirled his keys in his hand.

“Yeah. You never told me where we’re going,” he added as they started walking.

“That’s because it’s a surprise. Also, possibly, because I didn’t fully plan this out until yesterday.”

“I liked it better when you said it was a surprise. Wait. THAT’S your CAR?”

Sebastian stopped, assessing the vintage black Corvette in front of them. “Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“It does that to people. Jump in.”

They chatted casually about nothing as Sebastian drove, heading out of Westerville in a direction Blaine had never gone before. They went out far enough that town disappeared behind them and they came upon gentle hills and the open blue sky. It was a perfect fall day, the breeze through the windows crisp and cold and smelling of the earliest golden leaves.

He was surprised when they pulled up to a church. It was a three-story building of grey stone, its tower reaching at least five stories higher. It was also very old, with the cracks between stones showing moss and dirt. A sign out front said “Journeys Presbyterian Church.”

They parked in the dirt lot, Sebastian offering no explanation.

“We’re at a church?” Blaine asked, confused.

Sebastian just reached into the backseat for his camera bag. “Not just any church. A church with a _bell tower_ ,” he added, as if that explained everything, then opened the door and got out.

Blaine scrambled out after him. “But why?”

“You’ll see. Geez, wonderboy, trust me a little. This is gonna be cool.”

Sebastian swaggered his way right through the front door, which was open. (Blaine was tempted to make a joke about Sebastian bursting into flames, but bit it back.) Then, without making sure Blaine was even following, he made a sharp turn down the right-hand hallway, which seemed to be made up of offices.

Sebastian seemed to know where he was going, which confused Blaine (they were at least an hour outside of Westerville, in a _church_ , and oh my god what the hell was going on?) and stopped at an open door about halfway down the hall, knocking on the door frame.

Blaine looked around Sebastian’s shoulder to see an older woman at a desk, her head buried in a book. She looked up at Sebastian’s knock, reading glasses slipping down her nose. She smiled broadly. “Hi, Sebastian!”

“Hi, Mrs. Andrews. How are you?”

Mrs. Andrews stood and practically skipped over to Sebastian, enveloping him in a hug. She was a short woman, with wide hips and gray hair pulled into a tight bun, dressed in a pale blue sweater and a skirt that brushed her ankles. Sebastian laughed and hugged her back. “I’m doing wonderful, darling. How are you? Busy as always?”

“Yeah, senior year.”

“And how are your sisters?”

“They’re great. Sophie’s already working on her Julliard audition, of course. And Cassie’s just as awesome as ever. Oh,” he suddenly remembered something and reached into his camera bag, producing a photo. “She asked me to bring you a picture of Katie.”

Mrs. Andrews took the photos and cooed over them. “My goodness. She’s so _big._ ”

“I know, and she’s a _terror._ ”

The older woman looked up at Sebastian fondly. “And you _adore_ her.”

Blaine couldn’t see Sebastian roll his eyes, but he could practically hear it. “Yeah, I do. She’s my baby niece, it’s my job.”

Mrs. Andrews chuckled. “Well, thank you, darling, for bringing me this, and you tell Cassie we miss her. Are you going to head up?”

“Yeah, I have a new assignment. Blaine and I—“ he pointed over his shoulder at Blaine, who waved and smiled, “are both gonna head up, if that’s alright.”

“Of course. Hi, darling. Blaine, is it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you go to Dalton as well?”

“No ma’am. I used to. I go to McKinley now.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about their show choir. Well, Sebastian, let me grab you the keys and you can head on up.”

Blaine stood in stunned silence as the older woman dug a key ring out of her desk drawer and handed over two of the keys to Sebastian. They were ancient skeleton keys, like something out of a movie. “Alright, here you go. Have fun. Don’t fall.”

Sebastian laughed. “We won’t. I’ll bring these back when we’re done.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sebastian turned and nodded for Blaine to follow him. They were halfway down the hall before he spoke.

“Don’t. Say. _Anything_.”

Blaine grinned. “I’m too surprised to think in real words yet.”

“Keep it that way.”

 

~~~~

 

**65**

The wind at the top of the bell tower (eight stories high, and there was no elevator) whistled through the open arches, cold and biting Blaine’s cheeks. But he could barely feel it, because he was wrapped up in the view. He could see for miles on any one side, over the low, gentle hills. The sky was fiercely blue, spotted with clouds that cast long shadows over the ground below. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” was all he could manage, leaning out over the low stone sill.

“Careful there,” Sebastian teased, kneeling down to open his camera bag. “I’d have a lot of explaining to do if you fell now.”

Blaine turned, leaning back on the sturdy wall. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“Yeah. Cassie—my older sister, I might not have mentioned her much before--brought me up here once, about a year ago. She used to go to church here.” He was fiddling with an old-school film camera, carefully checking the long lens before clicking it into place, then loading the film with perfect ease. “So when I got this assignment, I knew it would be the perfect place.” He stood and pointed the camera at Blaine. “Smile.”

Blaine ducked out of the way. “What’s the assignment?”

“ _Landscapes_. The second most boring photography assignment in history.”

“What was the first?”

“ _Still life_. We all had to take pictures of the same arrangement, too. It was awful.” In two long strides he was standing next to Blaine, staring out the same archway he had only a moment before. “I hate doing boring, standard stuff like that. I mean, it was a bowl of apples. _A bowl of apples_ , B.”

“So what did you do?”

Sebastian smirked a little, but didn’t take his eyes off the view. “I did it upside-down. I had to stand on my head to take the photo properly.” He turned to Blaine, who could see the mischievous sparkle in his eye. “You can see my reflection in the bowl.”

“You stood on your head.” Blaine couldn’t believe what he was hearing. (The mental image, too, was amazing.)

“Well, I did a handstand, anyway. Steadying a camera at that angle was a challenge. Fell flat on my ass a few times before I finally got the right shot.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it much. _Far_ too much cursing for a proper boy such as yourself. Now, I never asked, did you bring a camera?”

Blaine fished his slim Nokia digital out of his sweatshirt pocket and held it up for Sebastian to inspect.

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

Blaine frowned. “It’s all I have. Sorry I wasn’t prepared for a weekend photography excursion with a ridiculously old and difficult camera.”

Sebastian frowned at the camera in his hand. “Ridiculously old, Blaine, seriously? This isn’t even the oldest camera I _own_. Wait a second… You don’t know the first thing about real photography, do you?”

“I do _so_. I know. Um.”

“Stop now before you really embarrass yourself. C’mere.” Sebastian gently snagged Blaine’s arm and pulled him close, turning him to face out the archway. He stood behind the other boy, not aggressively but pressed close, reaching over Blaine’s shoulders to hold the camera in front of his face. “Okay. How much do you know about old-school photography?”

“Um,” Blaine tried to see through the viewfinder, but it was held just above eye level. “Nothing?”

“Okay. We’ll start with the basics then.” Sebastian reached and grabbed his hands, placing them on either side of the camera. “Lesson one. Don’t drop the camera.”

Blaine smirked. “I know _that_ much.”

He heard Sebastian smirk right next to his ear.  It sent a little tingle down the base of his spine. “Alright then. Lesson two, pick what you want to take a picture of.”

“Okay.” Blaine moved the camera so he could see better. It was blurry and out of focus, but he could see the panorama in front of him, with the sun shining and scattered clouds sending long, dark streaks down to the ground.

“Got something?”  
“Yeah. It’s all out of focus though.”

“Alright, then we’ll move on to lesson three.” Sebastian’s left hand gently took his and guided it out to the lens. “Just turn this dial right here to focus.”

Blaine gave the dial a twist and the image jumped into—and then back out of—focus. His hands were shaking a little, and he couldn’t decide whether it was from the cold or from the feeling of Sebastian pressed close against his back, hands on his shoulders.

No. It wasn’t Sebastian.

It couldn’t be. It was definitely the cold.

“I think…” He slowly adjusted the focus again, this time carefully stopping when the image was clear. “I think I got it.”

“Okay. Then just take the picture.”

The shutter clicked. Sebastian chuckled. Blaine smiled.

“Blaine Anderson, you’re officially a photographer.”

 

~~~~

 

**66**

**Sophie** : Gentlemen and…um…other gentlemen: The story of how Sebastian Smythe was outwitted by a toddler.

Blaine was just wrapping up his last homework assignment for the weekend when his phone buzzed. He was seriously beginning to regret letting Sophie get his phone number: she had a tendency to mass text and never turned off “reply all,” so his phone was almost always lighting up.

 **Sophie** : First, I set the scene. Sebastian and I went to visit our older sister Cassie at her bakery today (which, as of last month, she officially owns! YAY!) And yes, I’ll bring cupcakes. This is Katie, our niece.

The attached photo showed a chubby, golden-haired toddler in a fluffy pink dress, waving at the camera. She was _adorable_. Blaine had a soft spot in his heart for young kids, but Katie was exceptionally cute.

 **Sophie** : Sebastian hasn’t been allowed to take on any serious tasks since The Great Mixer Incident, so he and Katie were assigned to frosting cupcakes. Look at how disgustingly cute they are!

The next picture was taken from across a stainless steel counter. Sebastian was perched on a high stool with Katie in his lap. He was reaching around her to frost a cupcake with bright yellow icing, trying to hold it out of the reach of the toddler’s chubby hands. There was a streak of yellow icing on the little girl’s face already.

 **Sophie** : Unfortunately, Katie is scary smart for a two-year-old…

The third picture was of Sebastian trying to dodge Katie, who had a handful of icing, while still holding the toddler on his lap and stay seated.

 **Sophie** : And Sebastian is… Let’s face it, he’s an idiot.

Katie had gotten her way in the final picture, firmly planting her fistful of icing on Sebastian’s cheek. The boy was caught in the middle of a yelp of protest, his nose wrinkled, practically falling over in a last-ditch attempt to get away.

 **Sophie** : Katie: 1. Sebastian: 0. You’re all welcome.

 

~~~~

 

**67**

**Blaine** : Icing is a good look for you.

 **Sebastian** : I’m gonna kill my sister

 **Sebastian** : I ended up with a ton of it in my hair

 **Sebastian** : Make as many jokes about that as you want.

 **Blaine** : That’s kind of your department.

 **Blaine** : Your niece is really cute!

 **Sebastian** : I know. My little koala bear. I love that kid to death. Don’t tell anyone.

 **Blaine** : I don’t think anyone would believe me.

 **Sebastian** : People say that to me all the time. I DO have a heart, you know

 **Blaine** : If you keep saying that, I might even start to believe it.

 **Sebastian** : WOW. You wound me.

 **Blaine** : You’ve been slowly proving that you’re capable of real human feelings. I’m proud of you!

 **Sebastian** : I aim to please.

 **Blaine** : So after reading all of Sophie’s texts, I have to ask…

 **Blaine** : What was The Great Mixer Incident?

 **Sebastian** : Oh god. I’m not sure you’re ready for that story.

 **Blaine** : Oh come on, I have a feeling this is gonna be good.

 **Sebastian** : I’m seriously gonna kill that girl

 **Sebastian** : Ok fine

 **Sebastian** : About a year ago, we went to visit Cassie at the bakery and she asked me to mix a batch of cream cheese frosting

 **Sebastian** : And I think the only way to properly describe it is that the mixer exploded.

 **Sebastian** : I have no idea why

 **Sebastian** : I have since been banned from any tasks involving appliances or sharp objects. So I pretty much sit in the back room, drink coffee, sneak cupcakes and watch after Katie.

 **Blaine** : You’re like a walking kitchen hazard!

 **Sebastian** : In my defense, bakeries are intimidating

 **Blaine** : Can I record you saying that? Because OH MY GOD. You just said that.

 **Sebastian** : This conversation is not happening

 **Sebastian** : I have homework to do. And lemon cupcakes to eat.

 **Sebastian** : Be jealous

 

 **Sophie** : Sebastian just yelled at me for ‘embarrassing him’ by sending you those pictures

 **Sophie** : Not sending them to everyone… just you

 **Sophie** : Just thought you should know

 

~~~~

 

**68**

**Sebastian** : Hey guys. 9pm. Lounge. Zombies. Bring popcorn.

When Dave made his way down to the lounge, Sebastian, Jeff and Nick were already there, taking up what were clearly their usual positions on the couch. Sebastian sat on one end, with Jeff in the center, knees drawn up to his chest. Nick sat on the floor in front of Jeff, bowl of popcorn in hand. They waved him over to the open spot on the couch, silently because the opening sequence was just about to begin.

He felt a little self-conscious taking up so much room on the small couch, his body so big that no matter how hard he tried, he was still pressed close to Jeff. He whispered a “sorry” but Jeff just shrugged and gave him a quick, reassuring “no problem” smile.

Trent came crashing in just as the scene began, earning a chorus of glares and shushes from the other boys. He took a second before he sat down (Dave realized he was probably in Trent’s usual seat), and Dave thought he felt the gentle brush of the other boy’s fingers against his shoulder before Trent took up a position on the floor, promptly stealing the popcorn from Nick. (That was when the first handful of popcorn went flying. Dave would soon learn that a lot of popcorn got made on Sunday nights, but very little got eaten.)

He had always watched _The Walking Dead_ by himself, usually a replay late at night after going to the gym at all odd hours. It was a different experience watching it in a group, especially with so many opposing personalities in the room. Jeff was terrified from the moment the show began, huddled in his striped hoodie, sleeves pulled up over his hands, which were pressed over his mouth for most of the show. Nick and Trent had surprisingly dark senses of humor and spent the entire episode mumbling jokes to each other, prompting Jeff and Sebastian to occasionally nudge one of them with their feet and tell them to shut up.

Dave didn’t look all the way over to Sebastian too much, getting absorbed in the episode rather quickly (he enjoyed the prison storyline in the comics and wanted to see how it played out), but his attention was snagged after one of those “zombie suddenly jumps out of nowhere” scares. It was a good one, too—Dave didn’t usually jump at those, but it rattled him. Jeff gave a high-pitched, almost girlish yelp next to him, which caused Sebastian to laugh loudly. Dave turned to find that Jeff had buried his face in Sebastian’s shoulder and that Sebastian had thrown an arm around him, fingers running idly through the blond’s hair, giving him a fond grin. The gesture was unguarded and natural and, to Dave, shocking. Since when had there been anything between Sebastian and Jeff besides repressed animosity?

He did know that it was a good thing that Nick couldn’t see them.

They watched the episode with only occasional outbursts (Sebastian laughing when something scared him, Jeff’s whimper at a particularly gruesome kill, a collective cheer at the appearance of Michonne) and thrown handfuls of popcorn (Dave couldn’t resist teasingly dumping some in Trent’s hair). Jeff moved away from Sebastian soon after the first big scare and remained huddled in the center of the couch, buried in his sweatshirt.

Dave couldn’t resist leaning over and whispering in Jeff’s ear. “Scared?”

Jeff wrinkled his nose and gave him a glare. “Shut up.”

“What? It’s not like they’re going to wander up on campus tonight and come knocking on your window. You’re on the ground floor, right?” He caught Sebastian’s eye over the top of Jeff’s head. He was shaking his head and mouthing “don’t do it.”

Jeff looked completely horrified. “Don’t be mean,” he whimpered.

“It’s not like you’ll hear hands clawing at your windows trying to—“

He was cut off as Jeff tackled him. Or tried to, but since they were both sitting down and Dave outweighed Jeff by something like a hundred pounds, it ended up being more of an aggressive shoulder bump. Dave laughed. “Did you just try to tackle me? Dude, I used to play football.”

He would never be able to figure out what sort of crazy kung fu move Jeff pulled on him at that moment, but the next thing he knew he was sprawled on the floor in front of the couch, with the other boys staring open-mouthed.

Jeff got up from the couch and stood over Dave in his sassiest hands-on-hips pose. “You were saying?”

Dave just stared. The other boys stared. No one said a word.

Sebastian was the first to start laughing. “Oh my god,” he shouted between laughs, holding his sides, “that was the greatest fucking thing _ever_.”

That broke the dam and all the boys were laughing, including Jeff and Dave. Jeff reached out a hand to Dave and pulled him back onto the couch, then gave high-fives to Sebastian and Nick. Trent reached over his shoulder to pat Dave’s knee comfortingly.

On the next commercial break, Dave leaned over to whisper to Jeff again. “So… How do I get on your good side?”

Jeff grinned. “Red Vines. And not complaining about my choreography.”

“Good to know.”

The following week he brought Jeff the biggest package of Red Vines he could find. Jeff laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch, then wrapped his arms around Dave in a tight, affectionate hug. They shared.

 

~~~~

 

 **69** : Winter, junior year

**Warnings: Homophobia, unsupportive families, references to bullying, super brief reference to Dave**

 

The day Jeff found out that Sebastian actually had a soul had not, until that point, been a good one.

His weekly phone call home (to his mother, only ever to his mother) had gone downhill faster than usual. It inevitably always degenerated into an argument—why haven’t you talked to your father became stop blaming him became fine, don’t come home—but that week in the early spring he finally lost it.

“For the hundredth time, mom. I don’t come home on weekends or holidays because dad has made it very clear that I’m not welcome to come home. And if that’s the way he wants it to be, there isn’t a single fucking thing I can do about it, whether he kicks me out or not.”

She’d started yelling then, and twenty minutes later, when he was crying too hard to yell back, he finally hung up. He was glad no one else came out to the gardens so that he could yell and cry and argue without the risk of being overheard. Nick was gone that weekend, so he could have stayed in their dorm room, theoretically. But walls and doors were thin and someone inevitably would have knocked, and he didn’t feel much like talking about it.

He was startled when someone kicked a stone across his feet, as if sending a warning signal that they were approaching. He looked up, trying desperately to wipe the evidence of tears from his face, to see Sebastian. The other boy was standing at a respectful distance, hands in the pockets of his Dalton lacrosse hoodie.

Jeff sighed. Of _course_ it would be him. “Could you please… Just not say anything. Not right now.”

He expected Sebastian to turn and leave. Sebastian was not the kind to care or say comforting things. Sebastian was the type to mock someone’s pain and leave them to deal with the fallout on their own.

Sebastian was also sitting next to him.

Jeff buried his face in his sleeves. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“Not saying anything.”

“Sebastian, I _really_ don’t… Why are you even here? If you’re going to rub it in, you can just leave. Even _you_ can’t make the situation any worse.”  
“Look, I’m only going to say this once.” Sebastian turned and stared at him, hard, challenging. “Yes, I overheard. No, I had no right to listen. But I get it. More than you think.” At the last sentence, something in Sebastian’s green eyes softened. “So I’m going to sit here and shut my mouth. And if you want to talk, talk, and I’ll never repeat it to anyone. If not, tell me to leave, and I’ll go and never mention it again.” There was a long, heavy pause. “Your turn.”

Jeff took a deep breath, trying to stall for time to see if Sebastian was serious. He looked into the other boy’s eyes and realized that Sebastian wasn’t kidding. This wasn’t some joke or some attempt to get under his skin. He was sitting there, willing to listen if Jeff needed.

He spilled everything. The words started in a rush and got worse from there. He paused a few times when sobs caught the words in his throat and kept them in his chest, and sometimes it was a while before he could start again. He made no attempt to start from the beginning or make sense. He just talked and talked, then cried and talked some more. Out of order, he told Sebastian about every moment, from when he realized he liked boys (he was eleven and wanted nothing more than a kiss from Nick, which to that day he had never gotten) to his disastrous attempt at coming out to his parents, to getting caught kissing a boy after soccer practice, to the beating he’d taken in middle school that made him miss three months from anxiety and resulted in his transfer to Dalton. The fact that he had been too scared to come out at Dalton, even though everyone was so nice and it made him feel guilty for lying about it. The fact that Nick was the only one who knew the whole story. Throughout the entire tirade Sebastian was silent, occasionally giving him a nod or other acknowledgement that Jeff could continue, that he was still listening. The sun set. It got cold. And still they sat until Jeff was all out of words, his brain and heart empty, his eyes swollen and sleeves a mess of snot and tears.

They were silent for a long time. Jeff waited, for the first minute, for the other shoe to drop. For Sebastian to say something awful that would crush him. For the cruelty and pettiness he expected.

It didn’t come. He was met only with Sebastian’s sympathetic silence.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Sebastian sighed and shifted. “I’m not really good at saying nice things.”

Jeff realized that he was freezing. “I guess not. I um… I know you’re the wrong person to ask. But I could really use a hug.”

Sebastian gave one surprised chuckle, then turned so he faced Jeff a little more. “Well, come here then.”

Jeff paused again (he wasn’t stupid, the meanness could still kill him) before tentatively leaning in to Sebastian’s proffered arms, which wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He took one sharp breath in surprise before he allowed himself to melt into the embrace, sliding his arms around Sebastian’s waist and burying his face in the warm front of his hoodie, smelling the light, citrusy cologne that clung to him.

They sat there for a long while until Jeff stopped shivering, then he pulled away, suddenly self-conscious.

“You feel better?” Sebastian asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem. You wanna go inside? I’m freezing my ass off.”

Jeff laughed and they walked into the dorm side by side, in a comfortable silence that had never been between them before. Sebastian left him at his door with a casual wave and a “See ya,” which was more than he’d expected. He swung the door to his room open, glad for the privacy to wash his red and puffy face and lie down.

Nick was there.

 _Oh goddammit_.

His roommate, best friend, and secret crush was sprawled on his bed in his pajamas, reading something on his Kindle.

He looked up when Jeff came into the room.

They made eye contact.

Jeff froze.

He panicked.

He jumped back out of the room and slammed the door.

Sebastian, who was halfway down the hall, pivoted at the sound, giving Jeff a “what the hell” look. Jeff just stood there for a second. He felt like a complete idiot. How in the world was he going to explain that??

_Alright, suck it up and do it._

He opened the door again and tried to be cool. It didn’t work. Nick was staring at him, eyebrow raised, book forgotten.

“….You okay, dude?”

Jeff stepped in and closed the door. “Yeah… It’s been a long day.”

“Everything alright? You seem sorta… shaken up, I guess.”

“Like I said… it’s been a long day.” He took off his hoodie, balling it up tightly ( _ew, what a mess_ ) and throwing it in the direction of his laundry bag. He idly rubbed one of his swollen eyes with the heel of his hand, hoping against hope that Nick, his best friend who noticed everything, wouldn’t notice his puffy face.

If he was aiming for concealment, he turned at the exact wrong moment.

“Jeff, were you crying?”

Jeff fought down the urge to flee the room and run like hell. “I um… yeah.”

Nick jumped up and caught him by the shoulders, holding him in a firm grip so he couldn’t run. “What happened? Was it Sebastian? I heard his voice outside. I’ll kick his ass if he said anything to you.”

Jeff couldn’t make eye contact. He stared determinedly at his shoes. “No, it wasn’t him. It’s fine, Nick, really.”

“No it’s not. What happened?”

_I’m gay and my father hates me for it. Have I mentioned I’m in love with you? I can’t tell you because I’m afraid you won’t be my friend anymore._

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m exhausted and freezing. I just wanna go to bed.”

Nick sighed and released him. “Okay, fine.” He leaned in and tilted his face up so he caught Jeff’s eye. “But… If you want. You’re my best friend. I’m here.”

He smiled a little. “Thanks.”

Jeff changed into his pajamas in silence and flopped into bed, facing the wall and burying himself in blankets to ward off the late-night chill. There was no way he was going to sleep, but he could put up the front anyway.

Not two minutes later, his mattress suddenly dipped and a warm body pressed up against his back.

“What are you doing?”

“Cuddling,” Nick responded in a ‘what do you think?’ tone of voice, wrapping his arm around Jeff’s waist. “Since you won’t talk to me.”

Jeff found he didn’t have a response to that. Nick leaned in so his forehead pressed against the back of Jeff’s neck. His warm breath made every nerve in Jeff’s body come alive, as if his very skin was singing.

“Go to sleep, Jeff,” Nick mumbled, already drifting off. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

They woke up tangled together, face to face from shifting at some point during the night. One of Jeff’s hands rested lightly on Nick’s chest, his every heartbeat sending little tremors all the way up Jeff’s arm. Nick’s arm was tossed over his hip, fingers conforming to the curve of Jeff’s leg. Their other hands lay between their heads, fingers intertwined.

Jeff was the first to wake up, but he didn’t dare move, not wanting to ruin the beautiful, unintentional moment. He argued with himself: you’ve been friends for years, this isn’t intimacy, this is closeness and friendship. His heart, though, was nearly ready to burst from joy. He’d never had anyone else in his bed before, and for the first person to be the guy he was so in love with… it was too perfect.

He felt Nick stirring, the changes in his breathing and the slight shifts of his legs letting Jeff know that he was waking up. Jeff closed his eyes again. It was better, he felt, to let Nick decide how he would handle this, what he would make of it.

He felt the slight shifts in his pillow as Nick looked around, trying to take in the situation. Then there was a long moment of stillness. Nick didn’t move, didn’t take his hand from Jeff’s hip, didn’t untangle their fingers. He lay there, perfectly still, for what felt to Jeff like an eternity.

 _What is he thinking right now? I bet he’s completely horrified. He’s trying to plan how to get out of bed without waking me up so he doesn’t have to feel awkward and explain to me that he likes me, but not in that way, and sorry about that, but I’m not into guys_ …

His mind continued racing when he felt the pressure of Nick’s hand lift off his leg.

_Well, it was nice while it lasted._

What he didn’t expect was the gentle brush of Nick’s fingers over his hair, or the slow, careful touch as he made his way down around his ear and his jaw, or the soft flick of a thumb over his lips.

Jeff thought that must be what Heaven felt like.

It didn’t last long, though, and Nick was all too soon climbing out of bed. Jeff gave him a minute, then rolled over, pretending to just be waking up at that moment.

“You awake, dude?” Nick asked him, his voice completely calm.

Jeff groaned and yawned, then opened his eyes. Nick’s face was a little flushed, his body tense. _Oh god, he’s embarrassed about being in bed with me, this is awful, just pretend you don’t know anything’s up_ …

“I think so. Ugh, what time is it?”

Nick seemed to loosen up just a little. “Almost the end of breakfast. Come on, we should go.”

Jeff rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head. “You go. I’m gonna sleep some more.”

“Oh… Okay.”

He waited as Nick got dressed and left. Only then did he emerge from his bed, wrapping the blanket securely around his shoulders. This was awkward. This was going to be awful.

He noticed then the little light on his phone blinking. He flicked the screen so it came to life, and noticed he had a text from Sebastian. It had been sent very late the night before.

 **Sebastian** : So your “best friend” just threatened to kill me if I upset you

 **Sebastian** : Not okay

He chuckled and started a reply, knowing that Sebastian, early riser that he was, would get it.

 **Jeff** : I told him it wasn’t you, so don’t try to pin this on me

 **Sebastian** : Whatever, blondie. Feeling better?

 **Jeff** : A little. Thanks.

 **Sebastian** : Don’t mention it

 **Sebastian** : No seriously, don’t. I have a reputation

 **Jeff** : Whatever. Like anyone would believe me if I told them you’re just a big teddy bear

 **Sebastian** : Most inaccurate description of me ever attempted

 **Sebastian** : But thanks for playing

Nick never mentioned that night again, and they seemed to come to an unspoken agreement that nothing had changed between them.

Things between Jeff and Sebastian, however, were permanently changed. Like things between him and Nick, it was never discussed. Jeff just knew that if he needed, he could go to Sebastian for a sympathetic ear and unspoken comfort.

He tried to avoid it at first. It was weird. Sebastian was supposed to be the heartless, don’t-give-a-fuck badass of the school. Had it not already happened, Jeff would have laughed at the idea of Sebastian listening to him while he cried. He would have laughed his ass off at the idea of Sebastian hugging anyone besides his sister.

But when he showed up at Sebastian’s dorm room two weeks later, sniffling into his sleeves, the other boy pulled him into an embrace without a word or a second thought, and he cried for an hour.

There were rules to whatever the hell it was that went on between them. First, they never, _ever_ talked about it. Jeff never asked what Sebastian was getting out of it, never asked him why or how he felt having him in his room when he could have been out having fun. Second, Sebastian never made fun of him for needing the comfort. Everything else was still fair game. Third, they kept it a secret as much as possible. When they were with the other boys there was no indication that they were even friends, much less that Jeff occasionally spent Saturday nights

crying his eyes out in Sebastian’s arms. The next night they’d pile into the lounge with the rest of the group and watch “The Walking Dead” and say maybe three words to each other. (Not difficult for Sebastian, who pretty much sat at the far end of the couch away from the other boys and didn’t speak.) The secret lasted a good few weeks that way, until one night when Jeff showed up unexpectedly at Sebastian’s room after arguing with Nick and Trent answered the door.

They stood paralyzed by shock for a moment. Jeff was an utter mess and couldn’t come up with an excuse; Trent just stood there with his mouth moving silently, trying to figure out why a rumpled, teary Jeff had just shown up unannounced.

“Hey,” Jeff managed weakly after a minute. “Is Sebastian here?”

Trent looked a little surprised, but didn’t say anything as he turned and Jeff saw Sebastian sitting at his desk, headphones in, working on a paper. Trent gave him a “go ahead” shrug and stepped aside.

Jeff wasn’t sure what to do. Sebastian wasn’t expecting him (his visits had previously been limited to Saturdays after his weekly phone call home) and Trent was there and he didn’t know, and Jeff was _very_ sure that Sebastian didn’t want him to know—last he’d checked, the roommates had barely been on speaking terms.

He walked up behind his –friend? Were they friends? That would be weird—and laid a hand on his shoulder, carefully so as not to startle him. This close, he could hear that Sebastian was listening to the soundtrack from “The Book of Mormon” (he’d once admitted it made him feel better when he’d had a bad day, though what qualified as a “bad day” for Sebastian, Jeff didn’t know). The other boy looked up, his green eyes going wide with surprise as he pulled one headphone out of his ear.

“Hey what’s—oh.” Sebastian instantly tugged out his headphones and jumped up from his seat, gripping Jeff’s arms. “Shit. What happened?”

Jeff glanced over his shoulder at Trent, and Sebastian followed his gaze. The other Warbler panicked for a second, then made a show of putting on his headphones and opening a textbook. Sebastian shrugged as if to say, “nothing to do about it now.” The way he slid his hands up to Jeff’s shoulders was so incredibly gentle that he melted. He leaned in without explanation, slipping his arms around the other boy’s waist, pressing his forehead into his shoulder, breathing in his cologne, which was becoming familiar and comforting.

Sebastian’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and he held him close. He didn’t bother with comforting words—he still wasn’t any good at them, and he knew Jeff didn’t want to hear them anyway. So they stood there for a long time without speaking, just drawing comfort from the embrace, from being so close to another person who understood.

Sebastian was the first to break the silence. “You gonna tell me what happened, blondie? Or am I gonna have to guess?”

Jeff snickered. “Sebastian… I don’t think I can deal with you being an ass right now.”

“Alright…well, I tried. Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll start guessing.”

They sat down side by side on Sebastian’s bed. A thought flickered through Jeff’s head—how many other guys had been in this bed, and did he really want to think about it—but he dismissed it quickly. That wasn’t what he was there for.

“Alright. I’ll just start then. They discontinued your favorite hair dye and you’re going to have to either go red or admit that you’re a brunet. No? Okay… Your schedule got changed to nothing but French and calculus. That’s not it?”

“Sebastian,” Jeff interrupted, grinning despite himself as he leaned his head on the other boy’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

He must have drifted off to sleep there—he tended to do that when he got emotional, it helped him cam down and deal with things—because the next thing he knew he was lying down, head on Sebastian’s knee, a hand gently running through his hair.

He heard Trent speak. “Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure,” was Sebastian’s whispered reply. “I hope so.”

There was a long pause, then Trent spoke again. “Can I ask—I know it’s none of my business. I just don’t want to see Jeff getting hurt.”

“You can ask all you want. If someone’s hurting Jeff—and his secrets are his to tell, not mine—it’s not me. I’m just trying to make it better. If I can.”

“But why you? I mean… seriously. You of all people.”

“I have no idea. I just… I was there once and I listened and shut my mouth. I _can_ do that occasionally, so stop looking at me like that.”

There was another long pause. The way Sebastian ran his fingers through Jeff’s hair made him feel sleepy again. God only knew where Sebastian had picked up that skill.

When Trent spoke again, his voice was a lot gentler. “You do this a lot for Sophie, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Sebastian sighed. “Yeah. I used to, anyway.”

“Has she… Have you talked to her?”

Another long, long pause, this one heavier with meaning. “No.”

“I… I tried, Sebastian. I hate your fucking guts, but I tried.”

“I know.”

“By the way, if you hurt Jeff, I will seriously fucking kill you. It will be awful.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to laugh. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

Jeff squeezed his eyes closed even tighter. He felt like he’d intruded on something private, though that was probably the way Trent felt at that exact moment.

Sebastian gently shook his shoulder. “Hey, blondie. Wake up. Time to get in a bed that isn’t mine. You’re gonna make it smell like hair dye if I let you stay any longer.”

He couldn’t repress the giggles that welled up. “You’re such an ass.”

“Thank you for noticing, I’ve gotten some practice lately. Come on, get up.” He gave Jeff a gentle shove and he sat up, trying to rearrange his hair from where Sebastian had mussed it. “Need me to walk you back, or can you remember where you live?”

“No, I can get back on my own. God, you treat me like such a little kid.”

“Says the guy who was singing Disney songs in the shower this morning and _yes_ , I could tell it was you.”

“Creeper.”

“Immature.”

“See you later, Seb.”

“Oh my _God_ , my sister calls me Seb. You are absolutely _forbidden_ from calling me Seb.”

Jeff just grinned as he walked out the door.

Two days later, he took a deep breath and told Nick he was thinking about coming out at Dalton.

“Dude… is that what’s been bugging you? Is that why you’ve been upset lately?”

“Yeah. That’s part of it, anyway.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I just… I’ve always been too afraid to say anything here, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. But the guys here are different. And believe me, I wouldn’t be saying that unless I _knew_ it was true. And besides,” he added as he crossed the room and jumped on Jeff’s bed to sit next to him. “You’re my best friend, and if _anyone_ gives you problems, I’ll kick their ass.”

Jeff laughed and hugged him tightly, which the other boy returned. “You’re the best, Nick. Thanks for. You know. Everything.”

Nick leaned his head on Jeff’s shoulder in a familiar, affectionate gesture. “Anything for you, Jeff.”

News travelled fast, especially after he explained the whole situation to Trent, who yelled “I fucking _knew it_ ” and proceeded to interrogate him about what was going on with Sebastian. Jeff demurred on most of the story, but did make a point of insisting that no, they _were not_ going out _or_ sleeping together, for god’s sake, why would Trent even think such a thing? And because Trent couldn’t keep his mouth shut (he meant well, and really didn’t mean to out Jeff, he just never shut up, and when he confessed to Jeff he’d actually cried) Jeff was confirming to the assembled Warblers only a few days later that yes, he was gay, no, he wasn’t seeing anyone, and he was sorry for keeping it a secret so long but it wasn’t because they weren’t his friends, he’d only started telling anyone a few days before. He got a lot of hugs. On the other side of the room, Sebastian flashed him a thumbs-up and a grin.

Two days later, they heard about Dave. The next day, Sophie returned to rehearsals. No one asked what had happened that had mended the bridges between the twins, figuring it was none of their business. By then, Jeff had definitely established a friendship with both of them, despite Sebastian’s history, and the campaign for his redemption in the eyes of the rest of the Warblers began.

He still went over to Sebastian’s room sometimes. Since Trent knew what was going on, it had become something of a routine. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes, like the time he got Sebastian to tell one of his crazier “So this one time, in Paris” stories, he laughed. Once, they even got Trent laughing, and that was when they knew that Sebastian was on his way back into the Warblers’ good graces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd include this after this last segment about Jeff: The Trevor Project Hotline: Free, confidential, 24/7. 866-488-7386


	8. Chapter 8

**No warnings for this chapter.**

 

**70**

After the photography day, Blaine came to the conclusion that he _really_ needed to figure out what he was feeling for Sebastian.

He was confused. Everything was changing too fast: the distance between him and Kurt, the rekindled friendship with Sebastian, the return of the strange and conflicted feelings he had for the other boy, despite being in a relationship.

He had long ago admitted to himself that he’d had a crush on Sebastian when they’d first met. It was easy. Sebastian was attractive, and the way he flattered and flirted… It felt good.

He had known, though, that he had to be careful. It was too easy to get wrapped up in the late-night text message chats, where the line between friendly banter and flirting was crossed far too easily. Blaine had caught himself several times saying things he really shouldn’t have.

And then… well. Finding out that the guy who was supposed to be your friend had no problem sabotaging you…That would do some damage to a friendship. And even if sending him to the hospital had been an accident, it hadn’t helped.

And then there had been Kurt. Kurt, who was so _wounded_ that he’d been, in his eyes, sneaking around. While Blaine didn’t see it that way, he knew that Kurt had a point. He hadn’t been completely honest about his friendship with Sebastian.

So now, months later, here he was again in the same position. He clearly hadn’t learned his lesson the first time. He was _actually_ sneaking around this time—he’d never mentioned to Kurt that he was talking to Sebastian, much less hanging out with him on a regular basis. At first he had shrugged it off—a few text messages and a couple minutes of conversation when he swung by Dalton didn’t mean much, right?—but suddenly it was two months later and he and Sebastian were spending entire days together. And as perfectly innocent as the day was (Sebastian had made only one obligatory attempt to flirt with him and laughed at Blaine’s disapproving look), he should have come clean long before.

So Blaine resolved: he would tell Kurt immediately. And if Kurt gave him the okay, he would continue hanging out with Sebastian….but _only_ as friends. And he would keep a tighter rein on his feelings this time.

He felt guilty. He wanted to see Kurt. He wanted to try to make it up to him, make up for his **:** dishonesty and make sure Kurt knew how much he loved him. But Kurt was still stuck in rehearsal for the day.

He picked up his phone.

 **Blaine** : Hey you! I miss you. How’s rehearsal?

 **Kurt** : Well hello! Rehearsal is going well. I’m finishing up one of Sweeney’s jackets.

 **Kurt** : I HATE SLEEVES, by the way. Have I mentioned that before?

 **Blaine** : You have, but I’m sure it bears repeating.

 **Kurt** : Sorry. Frustration coming through. Have no assistants today!

 **Blaine** : Oh no! Can I come help?

 **Kurt** : Only one sewing machine :(

 **Kurt** : But can I see you later?

 **Blaine** : YES!

 **Kurt** : I’ll meet you at that diner in Westerville, it’s on my way home

 **Kurt** : When are you free? I’ll text you when I’m going to leave.

 **Blaine** : For you, I’m free whenever.

 **Kurt** : So sweet. Might be a couple hours but I’ll text you.

 

~~~~

 

**71**

_You have a new friend request from: Sebastian Smythe_

Blaine couldn’t resist clicking on Sebastian’s profile without choosing whether to accept the request. The profile picture that popped up was exactly what he expected: Sebastian relaxing on a beach somewhere, shirtless and tan.

The cover photo, though, was a beautiful picture of sunlight streaming through a round stained-glass window, a complex pattern of brightly colored flowers set into the glass. The colors were deep and fully saturated, with a few clear panes letting long streaks of sunlight through.

Blaine had no doubt that Sebastian had taken the photo.

 _Wow. He’s good_.

He scrolled quickly down to scan the posts. Sebastian didn’t seem to update much (the last post was from a week before, and was in French—pretentious jerk) but the Warblers seemed to really enjoy posting videos, stupid links, and inside jokes on his wall. Sophie made the occasional appearance, mostly posting mobile photos she’d taken of the two of them. Her profile picture was of her dancing on pointe, captured mid-pirouette with her long hair and loose black dress twisting around her hips.

What caught Blaine’s eye was a picture Sophie had posted to her brother’s wall. The caption was simply “OH MY GOD LOOK WHAT I FOUND,” and the photo was obviously of the twin siblings, aged probably five or six. Both of them were round-faced and still slightly chubby, with lopsided grins and freckles. It was strange how closely they resembled each other as little kids, even more than they did now. They were holding hands, standing on the front steps of a house, backpacks on their shoulders.

There was a comment from Sophie. “Our very first first day of school picture!”

The second was from Sebastian. “My favorite tradition. All other years are off limits, by the way.”

Blaine grinned. It fascinated him to see Sebastian so open, even though it was very clear that he was only ever that way around his sister.

He accepted the friend request, and sent one to Sophie for good measure.

 

~~~~

 

**72**

When he pulled into the diner’s parking lot, Kurt’s car was already there. His heart jumped and he had to restrain himself from skipping inside.

Kurt had taken the booth in the farthest corner and was completely absorbed in his phone. He glanced up when the bell above the door jingled. Blaine waited for the smile that always lit up his boyfriend’s entire face.

It didn’t come.

Oh.

Blaine’s mind was racing as he sat down across the booth from Kurt. “Hi.”

The smile finally came and Kurt reached across the table to squeeze Blaine’s hands. “Hi yourself.”

That was a little reassuring, but he was still worried. “How was rehearsal?”  
“Long.” Kurt released his grip on Blaine’s hands and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I have so many mock-ups to finish. It just feels like I don’t have enough time.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re incredible, and if anyone can do it—“

They were interrupted by the appearance of the waitress, a chubby, matronly woman with red hair and a huge smile. Blaine followed Kurt’s lead and ordered only coffee. That was another thing that made Blaine worry. He felt like it was a bad omen: this meeting wouldn’t be lasting long.

“So, what’s going on? You’ve got me a little worried.”

Kurt took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself. “I was talking to Johnny today, and… He asked me out.”

“He—what? You said no. Right?”  
“Of course I did. Of _course_. And I told him that I have a boyfriend. And he…” Another deep breath. “And he was so embarrassed, because after all this time working together, _he had no idea_.”

Oh.

Blaine’s mind spun. He had no idea what that could possibly mean. There were too many meanings. All of them bad.

“So he didn’t… He didn’t _know_? But I’ve talked to him.”

“He really didn’t know. He said he’d sort of assumed when I first met him that I was seeing you… But that he ended up thinking he was wrong because I never talked about you. And the worst part was I realized he was right.”

That hurt. It hurt a lot. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be sitting across from his boyfriend of a year and a half listening to him explain that no one knew they were dating. It couldn’t be happening. There had to be some mistake. “Kurt, you’ve been so busy. When you’re there, you’re working, you can’t beat yourself up over—“

“Blaine.” Kurt was fidgeting uncomfortably, not making eye contact all of a sudden. “After that happened yesterday… I was thinking about it a lot. And I feel like…” Another long, deep, slow breath.

 _Oh god. Oh god no_.

“Kurt, before you even—“

“Blaine, please. Just let me. I have to say this. This isn’t fair to you anymore. It isn’t fair to either of us. We’ve seen each other, what, three times since I started this job? We hardly even talk anymore.”  
“Kurt, don’t do this. I’ll try harder. I’ll come by the theatre, I’ll stay up later.” His breath caught in his throat. He realized he was going to cry. “I’ll do anything for you. Just please don’t do this.” He reached out his hands across the table, pleadingly, begging Kurt to take them.

“Blaine, this isn’t your fault. You’ve done everything you could. You’ve tried so hard. But I can’t expect you to just keep waiting around for me.”

“But the show goes up in December. And after that it’ll all be different again. And we’ll work through that too.”

“No, Blaine, that’s the thing. After the show closes… The director passed my portfolio along to one of his friends, and he offered me a job in Chicago. I haven’t said anything yet. But I think I’m going to take it.”

Blaine had no idea how to respond. He realized his mouth was opening and closing like an idiot, but no sound was coming out. “Wow. Kurt. That’s. That’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.”

Kurt finally reached across the table and took his hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “Blaine. I want you to know that I love you. And I’m not breaking up with you because you’ve done anything wrong, or because I’m unhappy with you. You’re wonderful, and you’ve tried so hard. But right now, I feel like I really have to keep moving forward, and I don’t feel that it’s fair for me to string you along.”

Blaine blinked back tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I’m really sorry about this. I wish there was some way I could see us making it work. And I know this is really stupid to say, but I do hope that someday we can be friends again.”

“Me too.”

“Look, I…I’ve had a really long day, and I have to go. We’ll… we’ll talk sometime, okay?” Kurt reached for his wallet and put a few bills on the table. He wasn’t making eye contact again, and Blaine could see he was blinking back tears. He grabbed his bag and stood, stopping as he crossed Blaine, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. There was a split second pause as he tried, thought again, then dropped his hand and left without another word.

Blaine sat for a moment in the booth, trying to figure out what had just happened. He’d walked into a diner for a date and just like that, a year and a half relationship had come to an end. That was it. It was over.

At that moment—because the universe had a _fantastic_ sense of timing—the waitress bustled up with two cups of coffee in her hands.

“Hey honey. Did your friend leave?”

“Yeah,” he responded quietly.

“Oh. Are you alright?”

“No. I mean. Yeah, I’ll be alright. Sorry. I better go.”

He knew it was rude, but he stood and left abruptly.

The drive home was the longest of his life. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on music. He just focused as hard as he could through the fog that had descended on his brain.

What surprised him was that it didn’t hurt. Instead, he felt numb and foggy. It was probably the shock, he thought. The pain would come later.

When he got home he climbed into bed fully dressed, pulled the blankets up to his neck, and stared into space for hours.

He didn’t cry.

He would do that later.

 

~~~~

 

**73**

**Sebastian** : Yes, I know you’re in class, but I wanted to send you this.

Attached to Sebastian’s text was a photo. It was of a sheet of photo paper, printed with the rows of negatives. What had Sebastian called it? A contact sheet. Where he laid out all the developed negatives to take a look over them and pick which ones he’d print full size. He’d explained the developing and printing process to Blaine on their day out, though he hadn’t understood most of it.

The contact sheet was clearly from that day, and Blaine couldn’t be sure, but he thought it might be the photo he’d taken on Sebastian’s camera.

 **Sebastian** : Not bad, wonderboy.

 **Sebastian** : I’ll make a real photographer out of you yet! You’re halfway there with the hipster clothes.

Blaine found he wasn’t really in the mood to respond. It was just too _much_ to deal with: it was one day after the breakup, no one at school even knew yet ad he wasn’t prepared to tell them, and the mess that was whatever he was feeling for Sebastian was something he simply didn’t have room in his head for. He didn’t want to be reminded of the way he’d felt with Sebastian pressed up against his back, arms around his shoulders, breath tickling his ear. He didn’t want to be reminded of the way his heart had fluttered a little.

He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and tried to focus on glee rehearsal. With less than a month to go before Sectionals, Mr. Scheuster was taking the time to lecture them about the importance of having their set lists ready and taking a lot of time to rehearse.

It wasn’t like they’d really need it. They were up against only two other groups: the reform school for girls whose name Blaine could never remember (Artie and Tina had gasped at the announcement) and an adult recreational choir they’d never been up against before. The Warblers, on the other hand, had their Sectionals on the same day and were up against Vocal Adrenaline (sans Unique, who had transferred to a performing arts school in Chicago) and a newcomer school they would crush.

None of the New Directions were particularly worried, but they _did_ have to pick their set list. They had always agreed that “Edge of Glory” would be their big, lead-off, get-the-crowd-pumped-up number, but that was where the agreements ended.

Everyone, of course, had different ideas. Artie wanted to keep the energy up with two more big, high-energy dance numbers. Tina wanted a ballad. (Not that Blaine could fault her. She _had_ been waiting three years for a big competition solo, after all.) Sam wanted to do something country. A couple of the freshman had put in their votes for a One Direction song. Things had inevitably spiraled downward from there.

He was brought to attention by Artie, who was in the middle of a mini speech about why they should cover “Payphone.”

“We can’t do ‘Payphone,’” he interrupted.

Everyone turned to him. He’d been so quiet it was almost like they’d forgotten he was there.

“Why not?” Artie asked.

“It’s just… Well, the Warblers are doing ‘Payphone.’”

Everyone was staring.

“How do you know that?” Artie asked, confused and suspicious all at once in the way he could be when he suspected someone of spying, but wasn’t sure.

_Oh shit._

There was _no way_ he could tell them he’d been hanging out with the Warblers, going to rehearsal, and hanging out with Sebastian. It would inevitably lead to questions of whether Kurt was okay with it, which was one huge awkward conversation he _did not_ want to have, but it would also kill the trust the New Directions had put in him this year. How could he lead them when he was hanging out with their only solid competition?

“I still talk to a couple of the guys. One of the guys, Jeff… he kind of has a big mouth. He made me promise not to ruin it for them. I mean, even if we’re not competing against them.”

“I guess that’s fair. That reform school for girls stole our setlist our first year.” Artie grinned at Blaine, who had heard the story and tried to grin back. “So, fearless lead soloist, any suggestions?”

If he were being honest, Blaine would have admitted then and there that no, he had nothing, but he’d been a little _preoccupied_ lately what with his boyfriend breaking up with him, a guy who had formerly been his enemy working his way back into his life, and the incessant pressure his father had suddenly decided to put on him about college applications. So no, he hadn’t had time to really think about the setlist for a competition they would win without batting an eye. It hadn’t _exactly_ been a priority.

Blaine pushed that thought down. It wouldn’t do any good to keep taking his frustration out on his friends. None of it was their fault.

“Not today.”

“Okay, but no complaining if the freshmen talk me into doing One Direction again. I feel some boyband comin’ on.”

Blaine managed a grin. “Fair enough.”

 

~~~~

 

**74**

After three days, Sebastian got fed up with being ignored.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Usually it was pretty easy to figure out—being an intensely self-aware jackass meant that he could pinpoint, in every interaction, _exactly_ where he’d gone too far. He always knew which insult, which snide remark earned him the silent treatment.

This time, though, he was at a complete loss even after three days of total overkill on the “analyze every second” front. He’d gone over his and Blaine’s day together far more times than he would ever admit to. He’d analyzed every glance, every touch, every almost-touch.

Okay, yes, he’d been a little flirtatious, but _damn_ , it was just so _difficult_ when every time he came near Blaine and his thoughts got all fuzzy and _oh my god stop that thought right now_.

This is what he’d been able to figure out: They’d spent the whole of Saturday taking pictures, talking about nothing important. After getting a little too comfortable showing Blaine around the camera (which, okay, yeah, he might have pushed it a little, but had Blaine shown any discomfort he would have backed off), he’d tried to lighten the mood by throwing out a couple of over-the-top jokes. It was what Blaine expected from him, really, so it put them back on familiar footing.

Sunday he’d gone to visit Cassie and found out later that Sophie had been texting all his friends the pictures of him playing with Katie. That had been a little embarrassing and he’d endured no end of jokes from the other Warblers. The conversation with Blaine had been a pleasant surprise. He’d stunned himself with his willingness to tell even more stories that made him look like an idiot. It was all Cassie and Sophie’s fault. Spending the day with his two sisters, talking about absolutely _everything_ because they had promised to never keep secrets again, laughing over Katie’s antics and just being in the bakery, which was lazy and calm after the morning rush… It did something to him. He came back happier, more open. Combine that with the fact that Blaine seemed to do the same thing to him and _goddammit stop that right now. Focus_.

Monday had been the unexpected friend request on Facebook, which had definitely caught him by surprise. It was a small thing, pretty stupid actually. But Blaine had blocked him after the slushie incident and it felt that in some small way they were building real bridges again.

And then… nothing. He’d sent the photos of the contact sheet Tuesday afternoon and never gotten a response. Figuring Blaine was busy, he hadn’t thought much of it until he didn’t hear anything for the whole of Wednesday. Then Thursday had come around and Blaine hadn’t shown up for Warblers rehearsal. When Trent had asked about the boy’s absence (why he asked Sebastian that time he’d never figure out), Jeff answered that Blaine had texted him an excuse about extra New Directions rehearsals.

So now it was Friday afternoon and still nothing. He’d kept himself from texting or calling—had to maintain his pride. But it was _killing_ him. He felt like he’d done something wrong, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

Finally he broke down and reached for his phone.

 **Sebastian** : You know how much I suck at this, so I’m just going to be blunt: did I do something wrong?

After an hour, he gave up waiting for a response and went out. There were other boys out there…right?

 

~~~~

 

**75**

Jeff was halfway done with his French essay when his phone buzzed on the desk next to him. Without removing his headphones (he was rather enjoying his secret One Direction jam session) he picked it up and saw there were two texts from Sophie.

 **Sophie** : Hey, remember when you told me I could tell Nick for you? Consider this your fair warning that it's gonna happen.

 **Sophie** : You two are in love with each other and the only ones—the ONLY ONES—who don’t know are you two. So I thought I’d break the ice. You’re welcome.

Jeff’s eyes went wide.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t have.

He looked over his shoulder at Nick, who was sitting at his desk on the other side of the room. He was looking at his phone, too. Jeff watched as Nick suddenly sat bolt upright, covering his mouth with one hand in shock.

She did.

 _Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod_.

Jeff hunched over his laptop, every fiber in his body tense, _praying_ that Nick didn’t look over at him. Didn’t say anything.

After a moment, he hazarded a glance over his shoulder.

Nick was staring at him.

Oh shit.

He turned as fast as he could back to his computer, pretending like he was absorbed by writing his essay when in reality he wanted to dig himself the deepest hole he could and just throw himself in it and curl up in a little ball of embarrassment and cry for a week or so. Yeah. That seemed about right.

“Jeff?”

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit…_

He turned down the volume on his headphones but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

There was a long pause. Oh god. What was he going to say?

“I’m gonna _kill_ Sophie one of these days.”

Jeff laughed with relief. He took it as a joke. Okay. Fine. That he could deal with. “Yeah. I know how you feel.”

He heard Nick chuckle and that was the end of the conversation.

**Jeff** : I hate you I hate you I hate you die in a fire

 **Sophie** : Oh ye of little faith! I just did you a huge favor, hunny bunny. Just wait and see.

 **Jeff:** NO! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I hate you!

 **Sophie** : Call me tomorrow and I’ll apologize if you need me to.

 **Sophie** : Hint, you won’t need me to.

 

Jeff threw his phone in the desk drawer and slammed it closed. He saw Nick jump out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything about it. He figured he’d earned the right to throw a snit.

And that was the end of it.

Or so he thought.

Until later that night—maybe 11:30 or so—after they’d spent the whole evening _definitely not talking about the text message_ or what it meant.

After they’d both changed into their pajamas with their backs firmly turned to each other, blushing even though they didn’t know why, because they’d _never_ been shy around each other.

After Jeff climbed onto his bed and sat with his knees up to his chest and tried to pretend he was reading a book for the English class where normally they sat next to each other, but he had no idea how they’d handle it the next day.

Nick had gone back to his desk after getting changed, though he seemed to have abandoned whatever assignment he was working on in favor of texting someone.

Not that Jeff had been watching. Of course not.

Finally, when it was getting to be almost too late to bring it up again, Jeff heard Nick sigh and put his phone down.

“Hey…Jeff?”

It took all his strength to keep his eyes glued to the page. The same one he’d been staring at for the past ten minutes. “Hm?”

The sound of a chair moving. Bare feet padding across the linoleum floor. Oh god. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

The sudden dip and bounce of the mattress as Nick jumped up, landing on his knees right between Jeff’s feet. So close Jeff could smell the last lingering hints of his cologne, feel his warmth against his hands. His knuckles were white from gripping the book.

“Jeff?”

Don’t look.

“God, Jeff, will you just—just _look_ at me, I won’t bite.”

Jeff stayed adamantly staring at his book, too terrified to do anything else. Too terrified to protest or even move when Nick gently took it from his hands and set it down on the mattress next to him.

Nick was blushing all the way to the tips of his ears, and Jeff realized he probably was too. There was a look in Nick’s eyes he’d never seen before—half hope, half total panic—that summed up exactly how he felt. Nick was also biting nervously at his lower lip, an old habit. God, it made his lips a bright cherry red that just wasn’t _fair_ —

Before he could even think it all the way through, he leaned forward and kissed his best friend.

It was soft. It was fireworks. He felt terrified and overjoyed, like laughing and crying at once. Like everything around him was spinning and he was at the perfectly calm center of the storm. He pressed into the kiss and Nick did too, and he realized as he leaned forward to press his best friend onto the mattress, straddling his legs, their chests pressed together, that he’d been waiting seven years for this and had never imagined it could be this good.

~~~~

 

**76**

**Blaine** : Hey. I’m really sorry about the last few days. It’s been a rough week. I didn’t really want to talk about it.

Sebastian woke up with a headache, bad breath, what seemed to be glitter in his hair and the long-awaited text from Blaine.

He checked the timestamp on the text (with only one eye open, because _holy fuck_ everything hurt) and saw he had gotten it at 3am.

At 3am he had been….

Yikes. Okay. Better make sure he hadn’t replied.

To his immense relief, not only had he not deleted all his sent messages (which he occasionally did, Drunk Sebastian assuming that if Sober Sebastian couldn’t read the texts, he couldn’t be mad), but he hadn’t sent a drunk, raunchy, or pissed-off reply.

Okay. That he could work with.

He opened up a new text message and thought about what to say. He had a feeling it was a situation in which to tread carefully—scaring Blaine off was apparently a lot easier than he thought, so some raunchy joke wouldn’t work. Try to be nice? Goddammit, his head hurt _way_ too much for that.

Fuck it. He’d deal with it in a minute.

He rolled over onto one shoulder in preparation for a try at standing up. (It would probably take a minute. Or ten.) He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them again. On his desk, right at eye level, was his coffee thermos. Stuck to its side was a blue post-it note that someone had written on.

“You literally fell in the door last night. Figured you’d need this. –D.”

He gave a dry chuckle. He owed Dave a favor.

He’d managed to sit up and get halfway through the coffee when Dave came swaggering back into the room, headphones in his ears, wearing his old McKinley High football sweatshirt, hair matted with sweat from the gym.

“Oh hey,” he yelled over his music, before realizing and taking one headphone out. “You’re alive!”

Sebastian groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why are you so loooooooouuuuud.”

Dave grinned hugely and raised his voice another notch. “What? A little hungover?”

Sebastian laughed and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay. I probably deserve that.”

Dave laughed and pulled off his sweatshirt. The tee shirt he was wearing underneath was soaked. Damn, he must have had a lot of stress to deal with or something. “Nah, you weren’t all that loud. You didn’t say much at all. Just kinda opened the door and fell in.”

Sebastian opened one eye to look at his roommate. “Is that why my head hurts?”

“Yeah, probably. That and the tequila.”

“Bourbon.”

“Whatever. You still fell flat on your face, you classy bastard.”

That made Sebastian laugh, which he instantly regretted because it made his head throb. “Fucking _hell_. Remind me to not ever do that ever again.”

“What, and miss out on free entertainment? You know you kinda mumble when you’re really far gone? I didn’t understand a damn word, but it was _funny_.”

Sebastian just groaned and thunked the back of his head against the headboard. That _hurt_ , but not as bad as the throbbing headache behind his eyes. He steeled himself and summoned up the most sarcastic tone he could manage. “Oh no, don’t worry, you don’t need to tell me what I said. Please. Really, it’s unnecessary.”

“Nah. But you should really text Blaine.”

That got his attention. He sat bolt upright with shock. “How in the hell—“

“The one coherent sentence you made. Or sort of coherent. Anyway, you said Blaine texted you, and seeing as you’re still after his hipster ass, I figured I should remind you. And since I’m such a good friend, I even took your phone away so you wouldn’t text him your drunk gibberish.”

“You devious son of a bitch.”

Dave chuckled and gave a sarcastic half-bow. “I try. I’m gonna go shower. You’re welcome for the coffee.”

Sebastian made a little noise of appreciation. “I owe you one.”

Dave just laughed and walked out of the room. Sebastian leaned back again and took a deep breath. The caffeine buzzing through his veins had helped the headache a little, but he was still unsure what to say to Blaine. If even _Dave_ had noticed their friendship enough to be such a sarcastic bastard about it, then this was definitely something he didn’t want to screw up.

It took another twenty minutes to figure it out, and in the end he just stole a line from Dave.

 **Sebastian** : You’re alive! Good to hear from you, wonderboy. So what’s keeping you up until 3am?

 **Blaine** : Hey. I’m sorry about this week. Just a lot of stuff going on.

 **Sebastian** : That didn’t even come close to answering my question.

 **Blaine** : I know, I just don’t really want to talk about it right now.

 **Sebastian** : Alright, so what do you want to talk about?

 **Blaine** : I’m not really sure. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for this week.

 **Sebastian** : Okay, you did.

 **Blaine** : Okay.

Sebastian realized he had no more to say. Good _god_ his head hurt.

He’d try again tomorrow.

 

~~~~

 

**77**

It wasn’t that Jeff and Nick had never shared a bed before. They had, plenty of times. As kids they’d piled into sleeping bags at summer camp or sleepovers. They’d shared the couch every summer at Jeff’s family’s vacation house (though that hardly counted, as they’d slept head to foot, and only when they fell asleep playing video games). They’d been inseparable since they were five years old, so crashing together had never been a big deal.

It had stopped in sixth grade when Jeff realized he was desperately in love with his best friend and that sleeping in close proximity had pushed things into a weird, hormonal space he wasn’t particularly comfortable with yet.

It wasn’t that things had changed when he’d come out to Nick. He’d half expected that to make the weird, uncomfortable feeling mutual (Jeff feeling weird because he was in love with Nick, Nick feeling weird because he feared the same) and put even more distance between them. It hadn’t. Growing up had done that for them.

Since then, they’d shared a sleeping space exactly three times.

The first was in eighth grade when they’d fallen asleep head to foot on Jeff’s couch, so it only half counted.

The second was the night Jeff had come in crying their junior year and they’d woken up tangled together in a way that was far more than normal best friend behavior. He’d expected Nick to be embarrassed and horrified.

He couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been, because this was the third time.

Jeff’s lips were chapped from kissing until sleep had put a stop to it. His hair was a mess from Nick’s fingers running through it, pulling it to guide him where he wanted to be kissed: his neck, the soft skin behind his ear, the spot just above his collarbone that made him shudder. There was a bruise on his neck where Nick had nibbled and sucked on the tender skin, pulling a moan from him that Jeff didn’t know he could make.

They lay together with Jeff’s knee slotted loosely between Nick’s legs, Nick’s arms around his waist and his head tucked into his shoulder. Jeff had never dreamed that sharing the bed that way could be so comfortable. Nick was warm and solid and, most importantly, asleep in his arms.

Yeah. It was definitely capitol-h Heaven.

He lay perfectly still for a little while, not wanting to wake Nick. He let his mind wander. So what, exactly, did this mean? They hadn’t taken the time to talk about it the night before. They hadn’t taken the time to say anything at all, really—they’d just kissed, and touched and tasted and breathed each other in until they’d both drifted off, and even then Jeff had pressed one last kiss to Nick’s slightly parted lips as he’d fallen asleep.

Which left them, unfortunately, in an odd gray area Jeff was entirely unfamiliar with. There was no possible way they could go back to just being best friends after last night. Best friends didn’t kiss. Best friends didn’t suck bruises into the soft skin over each other’s collarbones, didn’t press their bodies together in ways that forced out soft, breathy moans. But on the other hand, they hadn’t exactly said they were dating, either. Normally, that would have been the obvious conclusion, but up until about six hours ago Jeff had thought his best friend was into girls, or, at the very least, not into him.

He’d probably have to rethink that last part.

He was pulled back to reality by Nick shifting slightly, beginning to wake up. It was an almost perfect reenactment of the last time they’d shared a bed, some seven months before. And just like last time, Jeff panicked.

Unlike last time, he watched as Nick took a second to figure out the situation, then snuggled in closer with a contented murmur. Jeff released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It was going to be okay.

“Jeff,” Nick mumbled sleepily, not opening his eyes. “Stop freaking out.”

“Freaking out? I’m not freaking out.”

“Yeah, you are.” Nick opened his eyes and tilted his head up so their gazes met. “And you need to stop. This is really happening, and I’m not leaping out of bed in disgust. I’m actually _really_ comfortable. So calm down.”

Jeff couldn’t help but smile. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just… This is scary. I don’t know what this is.”

Nick smiled softly, reassuringly. “Don’t worry so much. This is whatever it is. Let’s just enjoy it for a while.”

“Okay.”

They were just about to drift off again when Nick’s alarm went off on the other side of the room, making both boys groan.

Jeff pressed his face into Nick’s hair. “Ugh. Can’t we just skip French today?”

Nick’s eyes were squeezed shut against the noise. “And do what?”  
“I don’t know. Lie in bed and cuddle.”

Nick opened one eye. “Can we make out some more?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll turn off the alarm.” Nick untangled himself and leapt across the room, switching his alarm off triumphantly. He was about to turn around and rejoin Jeff when a blinking light on his phone caught his eye. He paused, then reached over and clicked it on. Jeff watched as he read a text message, laughed, then carelessly tossed the phone aside before sliding back into the warm bed, under Jeff’s arm, pulling the blankets tight around them to ward off the early morning chill in the air.

“By the way,” he began when he’d gotten comfortable again, “I feel like I need to bake Sophie a cake or something.”

Jeff laughed. “She’s a bitch. When I said hey, talk to Nick for me, I didn't expect that.”

They both laughed, and that was the end of talking. They found there were much more pleasant things to do with their lips than waste time with words.

 

~~~~

 

**78**

By the time Monday rolled around and Blaine wasn’t feeling any better, the other New Directions members started to notice that something was wrong. They didn’t come right out and say it, of course—it was much more subtle than that. It was Artie’s raised eyebrow when he shuffled into math class late, Tina’s gentle hand on his elbow making sure he made it to the glee club’s lunch table, Sam trying a little too hard to make a joke in English.

By the time gee club rehearsal rolled around he was just _tired_. Guilty about making his friends worry, he’d been trying to smile, make jokes, and act like his usual self. All he wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed with a Disney movie. But no, it would just make everyone more concerned.

When he got to the choir room, he was late and the door was shut. Leaning against it, arms crossed casually over his chest, was Sam. His mouth turned up in a lopsided grin when he saw Blaine approach. “Hey, dude.”

“Hey, Sam. What’s going on?”

“We are skipping glee club today.”

Blaine had been going for the door handle, but that gave him pause. “I’m…sorry?”

“Dude. I know something’s up. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but it’s pretty obvious. So I’m staging an intervention.”

“Sam… I appreciate it. I really do. But I’m fine, and besides, Sectionals is coming up and we should really be rehearsing.”

“The new guys are working on something today. Come on. Have you ever been to the arcade at the mall?”

“…No.”

“Alright then. Blaine Former Warbler Anderson, I officially challenge you to a Mortal Kombat tournament.”

 

~~~~

 

**79**

Blaine hadn’t set foot in an arcade since he was probably twelve, and he’d forgotten how insanely _noisy_ they were.

The sudden jolt of noise was exhilarating, like he hadn’t realized until that moment how isolated he’d been for the last week, shut in his room listening to sad music or just lying in bed, curled around his pillow.

The arcade was packed with the after-school crowd, and dozens of voices mixed with the chaos of hundreds of video games clanging and yelling and crashing all at once.

He felt a grin form on his lips as Sam grabbed him by the elbow and steered him toward the Mortal Kombat machine. The other boy’s shameless, nerdy enthusiasm was infectious, and Blaine started to feel a little something like happiness.

On their way over to the machine, a flash of blond hair caught his eye. He turned and saw, to his surprise, Jeff and Nick at one of the first person shooter games. They were only half playing, laughing loudly as they distracted each other, Jeff reaching over to swat Nick’s gun away from the target and Nick shoving him back in return. Off to the side, watching and laughing, were Trent, Dave, Wes, and a guy Blaine had never met but who he had heard referred to as “Beatz.”

Sam saw them at the same time he did. “Hey, isn’t that some of your Warbler buddies?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m surprised they’re here, though—“

He was interrupted when Trent spotted him and absolutely _yelled_ his name across the arcade, then came dashing over and, without a word, grabbed his wrist, ducked under his outstretched arm, and lifted him, yelling, off the ground. Sam laughed hugely and followed as Trent carried him across the arcade, screaming a long, breathless line of obscenities, “ _TRENT FUCKING NIXON PUT ME DOWN YOU RIDICULOUS BASTARD OR I’M GONNA THROW UP ON YOU,_ ” despite the fact that he was laughing too.

He was unceremoniously dumped back on his feet next to the other Warbler boys, who had stopped playing their game because they were all laughing too hard to focus. Glaring at Trent (despite the fact that he wanted to laugh—he had gotten used to being carried around while he was at Dalton), he indignantly straightened his clothes and stood with his hands on his hips as Sam ambled over, still laughing.

“Hi Blaine,” Trent said, laughing, going for a hug, which he dodged.

“Hi, guys,” he responded as Nick and Jeff came in for hugs.

He was so caught up in saying hello to his old friends that he forgot to introduce Sam until Wes looked at him questioningly and tipped his head in the other boy’s direction.

“Oh! Guys, this is Sam, he’s one of my friends from New Directions.”

Sam smiled and shook hands, which was perfectly fine until he came around the circle to Dave, who had nervously shuffled back, halfway behind Trent. There was a moment of almost palpable tension between the two boys, before Sam grinned and extended his hand. “Good to see you, dude.”

Dave grinned and took Sam’s hand, and was clearly surprised when Sam pulled him in for a quick, back-slapping ‘bro hug.’ When he leaned back, Blaine caught his eye and gave him a ‘thank you’ smile.

“So…What are you guys doing here?” Nick asked. “Isn’t your Sectionals in a few weeks?”

“Uh, yeah,” Blaine began, not sure how to explain. “Same day as yours, I think. But we were just…”

Sam stepped in and saved him. “Ditching. I managed to convince our golden boy that Mortal Kombat was more important than rehearsal.”

Trent smiled. “I’m impressed.”

“So…” Jeff interjected. “Since you’re here… Sam, can I steal him and kick his ass at this game?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings: Drinking and drunk kissing.**

 

**80**

After half an hour playing a first person shooter with Jeff, who was even more spastic in front of the game than usual, followed by the promised Mortal Kombat tournament with Sam (he’d lost badly), he spent a while hanging back and playing skeeball with Trent (who was ridiculously good at it).

“So…” Trent began after their second game, where he had bested Blaine by 150 points. “What happened to you last week? We’d gotten used to having you around again.”

Blaine just shrugged and fed quarters into the machine. “I just… I’d had a rough week.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause as Trent searched for neutral subjects to bring up. “How’s Kurt? He should swing by some time.”

Blaine flinched inwardly, but steeled himself so Trent didn’t see. No use making him feel bad. But still… There had been a lot of mentions of Kurt in the past week, and every one stung just as badly as the one before. His room, school, his entire _life_ was littered with little reminders.

“He um….” Blaine took a deep breath. His eyes stung. “We broke up, actually. About a week ago.”

Trent froze in place, his eyes wide with shock. “Holy shit. I mean, oh my god, Blaine, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

Blaine shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look like he wasn’t about to cry. “It’s okay. I mean… I hadn’t really told anybody yet.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. But…no one?” He tilted his head over to where Sam was playing Mortal Kombat with Nick.

“I think my friends in the New Directions have an idea, but they haven’t said anything. Sam dragged me out because I’d been moping around all week.”

“Why didn’t you call us? We could have _totally_ had an arcade intervention earlier.”

Blaine smiled gratefully up at his friend. “Nothing like getting your ass kicked at skeeball to lift your spirits.”

Trent laughed. “Sorry, I _might_ have forgotten to mention we’re here all. The. Time. Nick and Jeff are obsessed with that one scary weird shooter game over there. I just tag along to get the hell off campus, you know? Anyway. I think bad mood revelations of this magnitude call for pizza.”

Blaine laughed too. “You’re weird.”

“Yeah.” Trent wrapped an arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “But you love me.”

 

~~~~

 

**81**

The booths at the pizza place were not meant to hold eight teenage boys. It had to violate some sort of fire or building code, or possibly just the laws of physics.

And yet, there they all were, crammed into a booth (and one extra chair they had pulled up). The mechanics of fitting all of them in together was like a very loud game of Tetris. On one side of the table, Dave was crammed into the corner, with Trent next to him and Beatz on the end. On the other side, Nick and Jeff were sort of half on top of each other (an arrangement which seemed to suit them just fine), with Wes fit in the middle between them and Blaine. Sam had taken one look at the situation and grabbed a chair, so he was content at the end of the table.

Everyone was yelling and eating (often at the same time). Blaine had been deeply engaged in a conversation with Nick and Jeff--who had either recently developed a habit of talking over each other and finishing each other’s sentences or he was just noticing it today—when he saw Sam chatting with Trent, the two of them and Beatz leaning their heads together so they didn’t have to yell over the noise.

“Dude,” Trent suddenly yelled at Blaine, reaching across the table to punch him in the shoulder. “Come back to rehearsal this week. And bring Sam with you. New rule. You’re not allowed unless you bring him.”

Sam laughed, but looked embarrassed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. How do you know I’m not a spy? I have skills.”

Trent sent him a patented Sassy Bitch Look. “Oh _please_. You’re cute, but you’d be a terrible spy.”

“You’d end up doing your Sean Connery impression the whole time,” Blaine added, which made Sam laugh again.

“Yeah. Probably.”

“But Blaine. Seriously. You should come back to rehearsal,” Trent insisted. “And bring Sam. But mostly just come back to rehearsal.”

“I really don’t know. We’re starting to get really serious about Sectionals. We might not even get Thursday afternoon off anymore.” He noticed Sam raise an eyebrow at him, but he figured they’d talk it over later.

“Alright, _fine_ ,” Trent huffed, turning the Sassy Bitch Look on Blaine this time, though there was a lot more affection in it. “But I’m getting _really_ sick of Sebastian moping around when you’re not there.”

Blaine’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t help it. He managed a chuckle as he tried to compose himself. Thankfully, Dave saw the look on his face and swooped in for the save.

“Okay, no. Sebastian doesn’t _mope_. He’s just more of a jackass. There’s a difference.”

Trent shoved his shoulder but they both laughed.

“Okay, that’s true,” Trent admitted, getting shoved back by Dave and retaliating by punching him in the shoulder. “But not the point. The point. Blaine. Rehearsal. Your cute friend. Saving us from Sebastian’s bitchiness.”

“I can’t promise anything. But I’ll try.”

“Good, that’s all I want. Dave you son of a bitch, stop it!”

 

An hour or so later, the two boys got back to Sam’s pickup truck. They got in, but Sam sat for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to think of the right way to say what was on his mind.

“So… Dave looked good.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed, staring out the windshield. He knew the direction the conversation would eventually take and wanting to stall. “Dalton seems to agree with him.”

“I thought he was a senior last year, though.”

“He was. I heard from Kurt he just never went back. So he applied to transfer. Get a second chance at a senior year, you know?”

“That’s awesome. I’m really glad for him.”

“Me too.”

The silence that fell between them was uncomfortable. Blaine fidgeted, wishing Sam would just start the car and get going so he could go home. He was tired. Keeping up the façade around the other Warblers had worn him out for the day.

“Look, dude,” Sam began uncomfortably before drifting off for a second. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But like. I know something’s up with you. And if you ever wanna, like, talk about it, I’m not really great at advice about dudes, but I’ll try.”

Sam’s awkward but sincere attempt made Blaine feel a little better. His lips lifted into a lopsided grin and he turned to look at his friend for the first time since they got in the car. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem, bro.”

“You know already, don’t you?”

“I didn’t for sure.” Sam shrugged. “But it was pretty obvious that you were really upset, and I mean, I’m still living at Kurt’s house and he’s been pretty upset all week too. I might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

Blaine took a deep breath and released it slowly. He felt relief just being able to talk about it.

“I’m real sorry, dude, I know how much it sucks when you break up with someone.”

“Yeah.” Blaine leaned his head back against the headrest. “It really sucks.”

There was a long pause. Blaine didn’t want to say anymore and Sam wasn’t entirely sure what to offer by way of comfort. Instead, he changed the subject.

“So is that where you go every week when we don’t have rehearsal? Back to Dalton?”

“Yeah. It’s good to see my old friends.” Another long pause. “Don’t tell Artie?”

Sam chuckled. “I won’t tell him if you don’t. I might take them up on their offer and visit with you this week. I just piss Artie off every day anyway.”

 

~~~~

**82**

**Blaine** : What are you doing after school today?

 **Sam** : Well my choices are screwing up rehearsal or going to Dalton with you

 **Blaine** : So….

 **Sam** : So I’ll follow you in my car

 

They stood in the Dalton parking lot for a long time, not saying anything, before Sam finally turned to Blaine and asked for the fiftieth time, “Are you _really_ sure this is a good idea?”

“Sam, they _did_ invite you.”

“I know. But I’m like, competition and everything, and all my bad history with Dave…”

“Which is over now, remember?”

“Right. But also that Sebastian guy. I’m convinced he’s gonna try to kill me.”

Blaine just sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Sam, we’ve already driven an hour and a half to get here. Sebastian _isn’t_ going to kill you. He’s changed. And so has Dave, and you’re okay with him now, right? So let’s just go inside.”

“Okay, fine.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

Blaine started to walk toward the building, but only got three steps before he noticed Sam wasn’t following. He didn’t even bother to turn around.

“Come _on_ , Sam. I promise I’ll protect you.”

“You can’t tell Artie,” Sam insisted behind him.

“I’ve been here almost every week since school started. My lips are sealed.”

Sam sighed and came shuffling up next to him, putting an arm over his shoulders in a casual, protective way that Blaine couldn’t help but lean in to. They stayed that way until they got to the rehearsal room door. They could hear voices carrying through, Trent laughing, Thad shouting at someone, the usual chaos. Sam removed his arm from Blaine’s shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly inward, suddenly defensive.

“You ready?” Blaine asked.

“I guess so.”

“Good. Okay, fair warning. Jeff—you met him last week, the blond guy?—he _might_ rugby tackle me the minute we walk in the door.”

“Dude… Are you serious or are you messing with me?”

“He’s done it a couple times.”

“Oh. So you’re _not_ messing with me. Okay. Thanks for the warning.”

The rehearsal room wasn’t in a _complete_ state of pandemonium, but it was close. Trent was in the middle of a story, telling it in his usual animated way, hands gesturing _every_ direction. Wes sat on the other end of the couch to avoid getting accidentally smacked in the face (which had happened once), laughing at him. The rest of the group was either crowded around or sitting on the other couch facing him. Everyone was laughing and shouting over each other at once.

Trent glanced up and caught Blaine’s gaze when he was in the middle of demonstrating something rather complicated and quickly interrupted himself with a wave, gesturing Blaine and Sam in. They crossed the room side by side, Sam tense next to Blaine who, in contrast, felt his shoulders loosening up. They paused beside the second couch, opposite Trent, which was occupied only by Sophie. (The buffer zone around her had been growing lately. Sebastian must have threatened someone.) Trent was in the middle of a story Blaine hadn’t heard before, and having missed most of it he could barely follow along. It had something to do with Thad. And a prank. Despite Thad’s affected, serious exterior, the two of them were well known for turning the school upside-down with elaborate jokes aimed at the other Warblers. Blaine had been on the receiving end of one as a sophomore. It had taken three days to play out. He’d never quite forgiven them for it, either.

Trent was getting to a particularly interesting part involving firecrackers (not as hazardous as some of their pranks, but up near the top of the list) when Nick and Jeff came in together. They weren’t _exactly_ holding hands but they might as well have been. Jeff saw Blaine staring at him and looked down at his feet, blushing. _Aha. Knew it._

The two boys crossed around the couch and sat down on either side of Sophie, then, almost exactly in sync, leaned in and each planted a kiss on one of her cheeks, causing her to dissolve into giggles. She didn’t say anything, just returned the favor, first to Nick, leaning so hard against him that they both tipped over a little. She was turning to Jeff when Sebastian came striding in behind them, coffee mug in hand, just in time to witness her give the blond boy a giggly smack on the cheek.

Sebastian just watched and raised an eyebrow. His voice cut through the conversation in the room with amazing clarity. “Really, Sophie? I left you alone for _ten minutes._ ”

She didn’t look at him, just rolled her eyes. “Oh my _god_ , Sebastian, you’re like twenty minutes older than me. It’s time to stop pretending to be the responsible older brother.”

Nick raised an eyebrow at Blaine, who couldn’t help but grin when he saw Sebastian’s amused-but-sort-of-pissed-off frown. This was going to be _good_.

“Pretending? Oh, sweetheart, take a second look at your juvie record and _then_ tell me I’m the one who’s pretending.”

Sophie just rolled her eyes and sulked, but their conversation had everyone’s attention.

“Hold up. Explain,” Trent demanded, waving a hand at Sophie.

“No.”

“Why not?”  
“We’re not allowed to talk about it,” the twins responded in a simultaneous deadpan.

“Bullshit,” Thad interjected from the far side of the room. “You started the story, you have to tell us. There’s a rule.”

Sebastian half-sat on the arm of the couch. “I call bullshit on your bullshit. There is no such rule, because I would have used it against all of you by now.”

“Sophie,” Trent whined, leaning across the empty space between them to shove at her knee. “Come on, I can _tell_ you want us to hear the story.”

She rolled her eyes, huffed out a breath and crossed her arms firmly over her chest, then sent Blaine a cheeky glance. Oh yeah, this was going to be _really_ good. “Okay, fine. But it’s a long and insane story you won’t believe, so I’ll tell you the short version. When we were fifteen we spent a weekend in jail in Portugal.”

That was _way_ more than the Warblers expected, and they all sat back, shocked, before looking to Sebastian for confirmation. He just nodded over his coffee mug. “True.”

“But… I can’t even… _WHY?”_ Trent demanded.

“We may or may not have been accused of stealing a two million dollar painting.”

Again, the group looked to Sebastian, who looked like he was enjoying himself. He had a wicked smirk on his face when he answered innocently, “Don’t look at me. I have no idea how it happened. Everyone around me was speaking Portuguese, I just ended up along for the ride.”

“And that’s all you’re going to get,” Sophie finished with a huge grin. “Now, enough about that, you all need to work on your pathetic dancing.”

 

~~~~

**83**

Blaine decided to sit out the dance rehearsal, since they were working on their two other songs for Sectionals at an intimidating pace. He and Sam hung out near the edge of the room and talked, mostly about glee club but occasionally veering off into tangents about school, college applications, and life in general. Once in a while one of the Warblers would step out for a break and join them. He and Beatz seemed to get along pretty well, provoking each other into loud outbursts of contagious laughter.

He occasionally glanced over at the group, watching them dance. The New Directions would really have to up their game by the time Regionals rolled around. He also made a mental note to look into the rules about bringing in outside choreographers. Stealing Sophie would be a dick move, but _my god_ that girl could dance. And she’d probably agree, if only for a laugh.

By the time the end of rehearsal rolled around, he’d resolved that he’d be paying more attention at glee club. No more moping in the back of the room, and _definitely_ no more spending the entire hour texting Sebastian. Too distracting.

Speaking of which… There ought to be a law against the way Sebastian was behaving. They were working on a new number, the Sweet Thing song “Change of Seasons,” a big, happy rush of a song that had them taking over the room with their dancing. Sebastian was really into it, singing at the top of his lungs with something almost like joy on his face.

Blaine smiled. Why did Sebastian hide the enthusiasm he had for performing? He was clearly in his element.

He didn’t notice Trent was standing next to him until the other boy cleared his throat. “Really, Blaine, you could at least _try_ to be discreet.”

“I—What? Sorry. I was distracted.”

Trent chuckled. “I could tell. So, how are things at McKinley?”

The concern in Trent’s voice was barely disguised, so Blaine knew that he really meant to ask about how he was feeling about breaking up with Kurt. He glanced over at Sam, who quickly distracted himself chatting with Jeff.

“Things are… Fine, I guess.”

“Alright. So… It sucks we won’t be able to see you perform at Sectionals.”

Blaine shrugged casually. “Yeah, but you’ll have a _great_ view at Regionals.”

Trent laughed at that. “It’s always a great view when you’re around, Blaine.” (He laughed even harder at Blaine’s disapproving look.)  “So are you going to tell me what songs you’ll be doing, or do I have to send my spies?”

“Since when do you have spies?”

“Blaine, since when do I _not_ have spies? I’m a sneaky bastard, why haven’t you figured that out yet?” He nudged Blaine gently with an elbow. “Speaking of which.” He tipped his head toward Sebastian, who had dismissed the other Warblers and was striding over, grinning hugely. “See you later,” he said before he bailed on Blaine as quickly as possible, following Dave out of the room.

_That jackass._

“Hey, Blaine. What’d you think of the new song?”

He took a deep breath, tried to come up with a joke, and got nothing, so he decided to go with the honest route. “I’m thinking we’re completely screwed unless I bribe Sophie to work for us.”

That caught Sebastian off guard, and he laughed. “She’d probably do it, too. Is it too soon to make a joke about how I’d have to sabotage you?”

Blaine frowned. “It’ll _always_ be too soon.” For added emphasis, Sam cleared his throat noisily next to them.

Sebastian just smirked. “Okay, fair enough, took it too far.”

Sam was shifting a little in place, arms crossed over his chest, looking like he was about ten seconds away from punching the Warbler, so Blaine decided it was time to get going.

“We should probably head out. Sam has a long drive… it was good to see you.”

“Likewise, killer.” Sebastian winked. _Goddammit, that boy…_

He didn’t miss the look of “what are you going to do about it?” that Sebastian sent Sam as they turned to walk away. Ugh. So much for telling Sam that the other boy had really turned over a new leaf.

Sam went out first and Blaine was just about through the door when he felt a hand on his elbow.

“I didn’t want to ask with your obnoxiously blond friend around, but…what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blaine’s breath caught in his throat for a split second. He hadn’t told Sebastian he was single, had he? No, he was sure he hadn’t mentioned it. And they had agreed that Sebastian would back off from the blatant come-ons, so what did he mean?

“I um…” _Okay, get it together, dumbass._ “The New Directions are throwing a Halloween party.”

“Oh.” A split second of disappointment crossed Sebastian’s face before he was right back to his usual sarcastic smirk. “Sounds like _fun_.”

“Why?”

The other boy just shrugged, obviously trying to play it off as no big deal. “The Warblers are throwing me a surprise birthday party. I’ve heard stories of what you get up to when you’re drunk.”

“It’s your birthday tomorrow? Wow, I… gosh, I had no idea.”

“It’s on Halloween, actually, but we can only get so drunk on a Wednesday.”

Blaine laughed and rolled his eyes. “Of _course_ your birthday is Halloween. What other day could it possibly be?”

“I like to think it’s appropriate. Anyway, just thought I would ask, but have fun with your loser friends. Speaking of which,” he nodded over at Sam, who was glaring full-force. “See you tomorrow if you change your mind.”

Blaine was about to leave when he remembered something, so he turned back to Sebastian, who was already walking away. “What’s the new assignment?”

Sebastian half-turned back. “Portraits. I might need to borrow you again next week.”

“I’ll um… Yeah, that would be fun.”

“Great. Now go before your friend comes after me.”

 

~~~~

 

**84**

Blaine spent Friday evening getting his costume together and trying very hard not to think about Sebastian.

He had decided just to go with his Robin-esque costume from the Superhero Sidekick Club, which made him feel awesomely dorky. He threw it in a duffel bag along with a clean shirt, since he was planning to sleep at Tina’s. The party was a big deal for her—her parents had even gone away for the weekend—so she was encouraging everyone to crash.

He drove over and arrived a little after ten. Tina greeted him at the door wearing her own version of a Catwoman costume—a fluffy, ruffled black dress, fishnet tights, and boots that could kill. She already had a red plastic cup in hand and greeted him with a squeal of “hey secret boyfriend” and a kiss on the cheek. He waved hello to Sam and headed upstairs to change in Tina’s room.

He was working on getting the boots laced when his phone buzzed.

 **Jeff** : Hey Blaine! Are you coming tonight?

 **Jeff** : Sebastian’s birthday party. It’s gonna get crazy!

 **Blaine** : No, not this time.

 **Jeff** : Awwww why not?

 **Blaine** : I’m at a party with some McKinley people. Sectionals coming up, team loyalty and all that, you know?

 **Jeff** : Okay, if you insist. But you’re gonna miss a hell of a party.

 **Blaine** : Send me pictures

 **Blaine** : Incriminating ones

 **Jeff** : I’m sure there will be many. Feel free to drop by if you change your mind though.

He went to throw his phone in his bag, then thought better of it. There was no telling what would be coming his way with all the Warblers getting drunk. He’d just have to find somewhere in his costume to put it.

 

~~~~

Author’s note: I have no idea what happened to 85 and 86. My bad.

~~~~

**87**

Blaine was drunk.

And Sam was dressed as Captain America, which was simply unfair.

They were crammed together on the couch, pretending like they were watching yet another game of Spin the Bottle (“It’s like _tradition_ or something,” Tina had yelled at them), but Blaine was staring at Sam’s lips and wondering, in a roundabout way, whether Sam would be open to forgetting about that pesky “I’m straight” thing. He was about to lean over and ask (no use being coy about it, right?) when his phone buzzed somewhere in the vicinity of his leg.

It took a second to find where it had fallen between the couch cushions—he had already misplaced it several times that night—and he was surprised to find a list of new messages.

 **Jeff** : Blaaaaaine you should really be here! We’re doing tequila shots. I wanna see you drunk again

 **Jeff** : Your antics are LEGEND

The message was followed by a picture of Nick, Jeff, and Trent downing a tequila shot each. Trent’s face was already flushed. Blaine grinned, knowing how handsy Trent tended to get.

 **Wes** : It’s not a Warbler party without our fearless leader! Where are you?

 **Trent** : Remember that time we did tequila shots until I fell over?

 **Trent** : Yeah this is gonna be worse than that

He wanted to read a few more messages but Tina had latched onto his knee and was pulling him down onto the floor to join in the game. He struggled, which just caused him to fall off the couch, laughing hysterically at himself, before he turned and tugged Sam down with him.

It was his turn. It wobbled in a loose and uneven circle and as everyone gave it a drumroll it slid to a stop pointing directly at Sam.

_Oh fuck yeah this is happening._

He laughed one more time before grabbing the front of Sam’s shirt and yanking him into the sloppiest drunk kiss of his life.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his head, that he would really regret the kiss in the morning—not that it happened, of course, because _ohmygod_ Sam’s lips felt just as good as they looked—but that he was wasting the opportunity for a kiss when he was so drunk.

He was so distracted with worry that he didn’t realize for a second that Sam was kissing him back, one hand gripping the front of his costume and the other holding the back of Blaine’s head, pushing him in closer. He didn’t even notice that everyone had gone silent until Tina pulled the two of them apart with a mumbled excuse of “okay we gotta move on now.”

Had he been looking, he would have seen that Sam was blushing furiously even as he laughed it off. He didn’t look, though, since he was distracted by his phone’s insistent buzzing.

 **Thad** : Trent just grabbed my ass

 **Thad** : It’s officially a Warbler party

 **Thad** : Where are you? I need backup!

 **Blaine:** Im at a New directions party. Just kissdmy friend Sam

 **Thad** : Get it Blaine

He didn’t respond again, just moved on to the next message, seeing there was a picture attached.

 **Nick** : Jeff wanted you to know we’ve progressed to body shots

 **Nick** : I’m enjoying this way too much

The attached photo was slightly difficult to figure out—at an angle and slightly blurry—but he  realized it was of Jeff lying on a table on his back, with Nick, shot in hand, licking salt from the blond boy’s neck. Well, that was _definitely_ interesting. Blaine had seen the glances the boys traded at rehearsal, and he seemed to remember something about Jeff blurting out that he was in love. So this was going to be quite a night for the two of them.

 **Trent** : So body shots just became Nick and Jeff awkwardly trying not to make out

 **Trent** : This is fantastic

 **Blaine** : you need to be drunker i can stilll read your texts

 **Trent** : If you were here, I’d have you in my lap by now

 **Trent** : Just sayin

 **Blaine** : maybbe next time?

 **Trent** : Challenge accepted

The next message came from Sebastian’s phone, but it was a picture of him someone else had taken. Sebastian was sprawled out on a couch, an absolute hot mess. He was laughing hysterically, head thrown back, not a care in the world.

He wanted to respond but he got distracted by Tina putting her cat ears on his head and kissing him. God _damn_ he loved Halloween.

 

~~~~

 

**88**

Dave had no experience with Warbler parties, but this one was definitely ranked up there with McKinley football parties for craziest night of his life.

Obviously, the reasons were different. At football parties he’d usually get rowdy drunk, yell, and pick half-serious fights with the other guys, waking up sometimes with black eyes or split lips.

He’d never had to take another guy’s phone for safekeeping, but that had happened about an hour earlier when Sebastian had drunkenly mumbled something about Blaine Anderson. Again. And while Dave felt no obligation to either Sebastian _or_ Blaine, a little warning light had flashed in his head when he thought of the kind of texts Sebastian was likely to send. He’d accidentally been on the receiving end of a full night of drunk texts once. Apparently, Sebastian had more than one “Dave” in his contacts. It had been…educational. So he had, as casually as possible, taken Sebastian’s phone, put it in his pocket, and pushed Sebastian toward where Jeff was still laid out for body shots.

He’d also never attempted to _dance_ at a party before, but that was apparently happening. He was just buzzed enough to try it, the music was blasting (seriously, someone _must_ have bribed all of the dorm staff), and when Trent grabbed his hand and pulled him to the center of the room where some of the guys were already dancing, he didn’t resist.

They didn’t dance together, at first. He didn’t want to make that big of a fool of himself. He couldn’t figure out the situation between the two of them (and the alcohol wasn’t going to help, but what the hell).

He knew he liked Trent. There was something magnetic about him—a sort of “I’m gonna be me, and I don’t give a fuck what you think” confidence that Dave couldn’t help but be drawn to. It was one of the many reasons he’d been so attracted to Kurt. And while Trent was definitely similar to Kurt in a few ways—they had the same sharp, smart-ass sense of humor, the same uncaring flamboyance—Dave knew he didn’t like Trent for those reasons. Over the past month, they’d spent a lot of time together. They were usually in a group, like on the arcade outings or when everyone got together to do homework or watch The Walking Dead. But there had been a few times where it was just them. They’d spent hours just hanging out, talking about everything and nothing. And in those long hours, when he’d learned the little things about Trent that made him who he was—that he was complicated but honest, unstoppably brilliant in a group but prone to blushing and shyness when they were alone, terrible at history but a genius at a piano—Dave would be lying if he said he hadn’t developed something of a crush.

The object of that crush was, at the moment, a little drunk and dancing like he didn’t have a care in the world. Dave watched from the periphery and tried not to be too obvious when he stared at the way Trent moved his hips.

Then, suddenly, there was a hand in his back pocket. By the time he turned around, Sebastian was already holding his phone triumphantly out of Dave’s reach. He grinned and shoved Dave backwards with his free hand, probably a little harder than he meant to, sending him stumbling backwards and directly into Trent.

He could have moved away.

He could have laughed it off, turned it into a quick joke.

But when they collided, knees and shoulders bumping together, and Trent turned that million-watt smile on him and put a hand on his hip…. Dancing suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

 

~~~~

 

**89**

By the time one a.m. rolled around, Blaine figured it was time to quit drinking and start focusing what was left of his brain on sobering up. He remembered the “got drunk and made out with Rachel Berry” hangover. It was not pretty.

He was back on the couch, having played out the game of Spin the Bottle. After Tina kissed him, he had to kiss Sugar, and somehow he’d ended up with the lingerie-clad girl (she was dressed as a mouse, like Karen from “Mean Girls”) in his lap for quite some time. Sam had bailed before his next turn, mumbling something about going to talk to Marley, who was there but not drinking. (“Not my thing,” she’d said with a casual shrug.)

His phone hadn’t stopped lighting up with text messages the entire night.

 **Trent** : Hey remember thattime

 **Trent** : We got SODRUNK at the christmas party

 **Blaine** : nononono dont remindm e

 **Trent** : WHAT? Itwas HOT

 **Trent** : Fineb ethat way

The next picture he got came from Thad. Nick and Jeff were tangled up on one of the couches, absolutely _going at it_. Jeff’s hands were in Nick’s shirt, Nick’s fingers tangled in Jeff’s blond hair. It was pretty ridiculous, though they were clearly _very_ drunk. Blaine laughed pretty hard when he saw it, and sent Jeff a “GET IT” text.

There were a lot of others, but he was getting really tired. He made one last round of the party, mumbling a “goodnight” as he pressed a dry but over-affectionate kiss to Tina’s cheek, before dragging himself up to her bedroom. He managed to get out of his boots after a lot of effort and fell into the bed still in the rest of his costume. He buried himself between the layers of blankets and was asleep within minutes.

Tina joined him about an hour later and snuggled into his arms, still in her costume—including the cat ears, which poked him in the face, making them both giggle.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“S’okay,” he mumbled back, pulling the cat ears off her head and tossing them over her and onto the floor. Then he pulled her closer, nuzzling his face into her hair to make her laugh again. “Mm. Now you’re comfy.”

“You too. ‘Night, secret boyfriend.”

“’Night, secret girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me incredibly happy!  
> Also, reminder that segments are posted six times a week on my tumblr at http://laymytongueuponyourscarsff.tumblr.com/


	10. Chapter 10

****Warnings: Underage drinking, some pretty explicit drunk sexting, a tipsy makeout with spoken consent, and various related shenanigans.** **

 

**90**

**Warnings: Underage drinking, drunk sexting, language, and other shenanigans.**

 

Texts Blaine missed while he was sleeping:

1:41am:

 **Trent** : are yu ever comin backk to reheerrsal?

 **Trent** : cause u have to see nickand jeff they areso fuckin cuuuute

 **Trent** : i misss you

 **Trent** : i miss yourr ridixculus dancing

 **Trent** : i missyour bad jokes

 **Trent** : i miss staringat your ass

 **Trent** : shit sorry im reallly drunk

 

2:07am:

 **Jeff** : i finally kissed nick

 **Jeff** : it was awesome

 **Jeff** : you were right

 **Jeff** : shit i wasnt spposed to send that to you

 

2:13am

 **Thad** : ithink wel ost Wes… thisis bad

 

2:22am:

 **Kurt** : Hey. I really wanna talk to you.

 **Kurt** : I’m really sorry, Blaine.

 

2:37am:

 **Sebastian** : blaaaaaaiine

 **Sebastian** : comeon, wonderboy

 **Sebastian** : whatthe fuccckkk

 **Sebastian** : wherrre arey ou

 

2:42am:

 **Sophie** : So this is awkward. But do I have to run interference between you and my brother?

 **Sophie** : Cause if he’s bugging you, just say the word.

 **Sophie** : PS I’m somewhere with strippers and I’m dressed like a slutty witch, just fyi.

 

3:09am:

 **Thad** : goodnews wes hasre apppeared

 

3:11am:

 **Sebastian:** i knowwere just sup poossd to befriend s

 **Sebastian:** or whatecvr

 **Sebastian:** but ive been ke epingn thisa secret way rtoo long

 **Sebastian:** ist illwant you wonnndrboy

 **Sebastian:** idont suck cock

 **Sebastian:** butwhhenever i see youu

 **Sebastian:** i justtwanna say fuckk it

3:15am:

 **Nick** : icant believe I had never kisseda boy before

3:19am:

 **Thad** : shitil ost him agaain

 

3:23am:

 **Sebastian:** iwanna suckk you offlike youve neverr beensu cked offb efore

 **Sebastian:** i wantyou to pull myhair untill it hurts

 **Sebastian:** getmy kneesa ll screaped up

 **Sebastian:** ibet youven ever gottte n a reallly great blowwjob

 **Sebastian:** ids uck uyou off so hard youd forgetyour own name

 

4:12am:

 **Sophie** : For your 18th I’m buying you a lap dance. Consider yourself warned.

 

10:15am:

 **Trent** : So this is embarrassing. I said some really inappropriate things last night.

 **Trent** : As you can probably tell, I was really drunk. So if you can just pretend that you never read those texts, that would be awesome.

 **Trent** : PS next time I see you… I have a hell of a story.

 

10:21am:

 **Jeff** : What have you heard about last night?

 **Jeff** : I’m half afraid and half trying to piece the night back together.

 

10:34am:

 **Nick** : You missed a hell of a night. You’ll never guess where I woke up.

 **Nick** : And that was meant for Sophie. Fuck. Please pretend you never saw that.

 

10:39am:

 **Wes** : Does anyone know where I am? Yes this is a mass text.

 

10:41am:

 **Jeff** : I have way too many bruises for all of it to be good news.

 **Jeff** : Goddammit that was not for you. I’m putting my phone away.

11:02am:

 **Sebastian** : Unlike all the other Warblers, I refuse to apologize for anything I said last night.

 

~~~~

 

**91**

**Warnings:** Underage drinking. Tipsy guys making out.

Dave didn’t realize how drunk he was until he had to walk Trent down the hall.

They left Sebastian in the lounge, dead asleep. They’d tried to pull him to his feet a couple of times, but finally he cursed them out so roundly that they decided it was best to leave him alone and just check on him in the morning. So Trent offered to escort Dave back to his room (at least, that’s what Dave thought he said—the other Warbler had been giggling too hard to make out a sentence) and off they went down the hall, arms over each other’s shoulders, stumbling and shushing each other’s laughter.

They were halfway down the hall when Dave realized they weren’t even on his floor. He tried to mention it to Trent, but it came out half-hearted and mumbled. They stopped outside Trent’s door as he searched for his key, and Dave realized that Trent was basically expecting that he would come in. He was too tipsy to process the full implications of it (he got about halfway through a sentence before his brain said _fuck it, this is a good thing_!) but he did know that he was okay with it.

So he stayed with his arm around Trent’s shoulders as he finally unlocked the door and pulled him inside with a mumbled “come on come on” and closed the door behind them and slid his hands over Dave’s hips and pushed his back gently against the closed door. Hot breath against his lips and soft whispers. “Is it okay… Can I?” When their lips finally met and Dave hooked his fingers in Trent’s belt loops and pulled him closer, there was a moment where he finally stopped thinking.

It didn’t last. It couldn’t. His mind started racing again. _This isn’t right. He’s drunk. I don’t want it to be like this._

There was a split-second battle between the part of his brain that _really_ liked what Trent was doing with his tongue and the rest of his brain, which was yelling at him full volume.

He pushed gently against the other boy’s hips and broke the kiss. “Babe. Stop. Please.”

Trent pulled away, the look on his face a mix of confusion and disappointment. “But… I thought you wanted to.”

“No, I mean, I do.” He kept his hands on Trent’s hips, still battling the desire to keep him close. “It’s just… I mean, babe, you’re drunk. I’m kinda drunk. I don’t want it to happen like this.”

“Oh.” He gave Trent a second to work it out. “But if we weren’t…Would you still want to?”

Dave grinned and pulled the other boy back in close. “Definitely.” They stood nose to nose for a second, Dave enjoying the way he could feel Trent’s heart racing against his chest. Then, with a wink, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his neck, just over the pulse. Trent gave a gasp that turned into a breathy moan as Dave nibbled gently on the skin.

“Oh god. Oh, that’s not _fair_ ,” Trent whined, balling his fists in Dave’s shirt. “Mm, _ohmygod_ , you’re staying here.”

Dave pulled away. “I...what?”

Trent kissed him then, hard, and continued between frantic presses of lips and flicks of his tongue. “You’re staying here. And in the morning, you’re going to do that again until I tell you that you can stop.”

Dave laughed a little between kisses. “Deal.”

 

~~~~

 

**92**

**Sebastian** : Unlike all the other Warblers, I refuse to apologize for anything I said last night.

Sebastian didn’t really expect that Blaine would acknowledge the messages he had sent the night before. He knew he had broken their rule—no talking about the two of them sleeping together, because, did he really have to be reminded, Blaine had a boyfriend. And yes, he was a little embarrassed that after a lot of tequila he’d let slip the one fantasy that Blaine _was not_ allowed to know about. And in the most graphic terms. The kind that Blaine _was not_ okay with.

Well, there was very little he could do about that now. So the way he saw it, he had two choices: act embarrassed and apologize and insist it would never happen again, or own it. He chose to own it. He could guess how Blaine would handle it: write it off as drunkenness, ignore the messages completely, pretend it never happened, and secretly mull over it for far longer than he should. So Sebastian figured that was the perfect plan.

He didn’t expect the message he got.

 **Blaine** : Hey. Hope you had fun last night! Sorry I missed it. From what I heard from the other guys it sounds like it was a blast.

Sebastian stared down at the message for the longest time. He expected Blaine would hide out for the entire day to avoid the embarrassment and never mention the missed party. For Blaine to reappear just like that, and mention the fact that he’d dodged it (which opened the door to all _sorts_ of awkward conversations), was unexpected.

Shit. He was _way_ too hungover for this.

Feeling just a little ashamed of himself—since when did he not know how to handle Blaine Anderson??—he closed the message and mass texted the Warblers instead.

 **Sebastian** : Hangover brunch in t-minus 30 minutes. You know the rules, bitches.

 **Sebastian** : PS has anyone found Wes?

 

~~~~

 

**93**

Dave’s head _hurt_.

And he was _confused_.

First of all, he was pretty sure, without even opening his eyes, that he wasn’t in his own bed. He was lying with his head away from the window, which made the sunlight pour in on his face. That was also, incidentally, making the headache worse.

Second, he wasn’t alone in that bed, and he had no idea what to do about it.

He remembered the events of the previous night very clearly (though it took a few minutes to get there through the fog that was his brain). It wasn’t a “holy fuck where am I and who is this” sort of morning, not that he’d ever actually had one of those mornings.

He had, just to make sure, checked. He was lying on his back with Trent curled into his side, head resting on his shoulder, so Dave couldn’t see much more than a messy head of brown hair and the arm wrapped around his waist. But that messy hair was familiar, and confirmed what he thought. They were crammed into the tiny dorm bed—how they both fit, he would never figure out, since he often didn’t fit when he was alone—on top of the sheets with Dave’s other shoulder pressed into the wall and their legs sort of tangled together.

The problem was that he knew where he was, and who he was with, and he really _liked_ it, but didn’t know how to say it.

At that moment, just when he was trying to form some words in the cloudy, painful mess that was his hangover, Trent woke up.

It was funny, watching someone else have the same moment of “what the fuck” that he’d just had. Trent rubbed his eyes, flinched, and looked around.

Their eyes met.

Dave held his breath.

“You’re here.” Trent’s face split into a huge grin. “That’s awesome.” He scooted up a little so he could bury his face in Dave’s neck, wrapping his arm securely around the other boy’s chest. “I hope you’re not planning on going anywhere, cause I’m _really_ comfortable.”

Dave almost laughed from relief. That had been a lot easier than he’d feared. “I think I can cancel my plans for the day. Though even if I wanted to leave, I don’t think you’d let me.”

“Do you… Do you wanna leave? Is this weird?” Suddenly Trent was panicking and half sitting up, propped on one elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

Dave’s head spun, and not just from the hangover. Well, he’d fucked that up. He had no idea how, and even less of a clue how to fix it, but the situation was suddenly going downhill very quickly.

“Whoa. Whoa whoa.” He sat up against the headboard and gently gripped Trent’s shoulders. “Slow down.” He waited until Trent stopped and took a deep breath. “I really don’t know what I just said wrong, and you’re kinda freaking me out right now, but that’s not what I meant.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. I um.” He let go of Trent’s shoulders, realizing that he’d been squeezing the other boy and that it probably hurt a little. “This is all… really new to me. But. I guess. I’m cool with it.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was a long pause as they both searched for words. Finally Trent just let his shoulders slump. “I feel like I’m supposed to say something important. But fuck if I know what it is right now.”

The tension broke as Dave laughed. “Oh, thank god I’m not the only one. I’m surprised I can speak in sentences right now.”

Trent giggled and leaned against his shoulder. “This is sad.”

“Yeah. It is.” He turned a little so his cheek rested against the top of Trent’s head. “Can we continue this conversation when I don’t have such a headache?”

Trent squeezed his eyes shut. “Sure. Next week. Next week should be good.”

He would have been content to just lie back—maybe drift off to sleep for a while—and was heading that way when both of their phones rang. They both groaned and searched their pockets, Trent coming up with his phone first since Dave’s was nowhere to be found.

Trent read the text message, groaned again, and made a gesture to throw his phone across the room.

“What is it?”  
“We’re being summoned.”

“…To where?”

Trent grimaced a little. “Hangover Brunch. Sort of an unwritten Warbler tradition. We all get together the morning after parties and swap stories.” There was another very long pause before Trent added, “Of course we don’t _have_ to tell them anything.”

“Do you not wanna go?”

Trent sat up. “Of course I wanna _go_. It’s gonna be hilarious, trust me. It’s just…. _Oh my god_ walking all the way there seems sort of impossible right now.”

 

~~~~

 

**94**

Blaine woke up to so many text messages that his phone had given up and just said “50+ new messages.”

He opened his inbox and scrolled through them quickly without taking too long on any one message. The spelling alone made his head hurt a little worse than it already did. So he didn’t even attempt to read or respond to any of them.

There were a lot of messages from Sebastian. He felt a little bad about skipping his birthday party—they were supposed to be friends, after all. But he had known that drinking around Sebastian, only a few weeks after his breakup, would have been a risky choice.

He didn’t read any of the messages—he would later—just fired off a quick “sorry I missed it last night” text. They’d talk later, but he had a few things he needed to take care of first.

First: Find his overnight bag and real clothes.

Second: Coffee.

Third: Apologize to Sam.

By then, hopefully, his head would be a little clearer and he could make some sense of the night’s events.

It took him a while to find his overnight bag, which had gotten lost under Tina’s discarded Catwoman costume. He dressed in the old jeans and oversized tee shirt he’d intentionally packed because they were comfortable, thankful for his foresight. One of his knees was bruised and scraped, probably from one of the many times he’d fallen off the couch. He brushed his teeth but didn’t even bother running his fingers through his hair, which was a hopeless mess, before heading down to the kitchen.

Tina was already there, taking full advantage of her borderline miraculous ability to recover from hangovers. The whole downstairs smelled like strong coffee and pancakes, which made his stomach do a sort of uncomfortable turn he hoped was from being hungry.

“Good morning, darling,” Tina chirped happily as he walked over to her, opening his arms for a hug. She was standing over the stove supervising a skillet full of pancakes, armed with a spatula. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Her hair smelled faintly of lavender and, despite wearing no makeup, she looked fresh and pretty. “You want some coffee? I figured we’d want it extra strong.”

“Oh, thank god, yes,” he groaned into her shoulder.

“Poor Blaine. Not feeling so great today?”

He just shook his head slightly against the curve of her neck and mumbled a “no.”

She laughed. “Okay. Sit down and I’ll get you something to eat.”

He poured himself some coffee and made his way over to the table. Artie was already there, sunglasses firmly in place despite the fact that he was indoors.

“What up,” he greeted Blaine, though his voice sounded a little rough.

Blaine couldn’t help chuckling a little. It was good to have someone in the same boat. “You look like I feel.”

“Bitch, please. I’m _fabulous_. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

 

~~~~

 

**95**

When they finally got to the dining hall, Dave was thankful for two things:

1\. He and Trent weren’t the only ones wearing last night’s clothes, so no one would be suspicious, and

2\. Sebastian looked even more miserable than he felt, so he considered that a win.

The head Warbler had his head practically resting on the rim of his coffee mug. A plate of toast sat, untouched, near his elbow. He looked up when he heard Trent and Dave come in and gave them a wry grin. Nick and Jeff sat across from him, looking only a little better. Both were still in pajama pants and tee shirts. Jeff had made no attempt to cover up the purpling teeth marks on his neck.

“You all look like shit,” Dave said by way of greeting.

“Fuck you,” Sebastian groaned. Nick and Jeff just laughed as he sat down and Trent went to get himself some coffee.

“So, how did you enjoy your first Warbler party?” Nick asked over the rim of his mug.

Dave had to think very carefully about what he could and couldn’t say. “Well… I didn’t get in any fights, and at least four different guys grabbed my ass, so…”

“Sounds like a success to me,” Jeff finished for him.

“Yeah, it was awesome.”

Trent saved him from having to answer any more questions when he returned with two cups of coffee. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at Dave, who gave him a “don’t say _anything_ ” glare. Thankfully, they were distracted by the arrival of a few of the other guys (Beatz, whose spiky hair was a wild mess, Thad, who was perfectly fine and laughed at all of them, and a few of the other guys Dave didn’t know as well).

The conversation began to get rowdy as Thad recounted the drunken phone call he’d made to his girlfriend somewhere around two a.m., which had nearly resulted in his getting dumped. “Alright, fine, laugh all you want. I want an explanation out of the two of you,” he demanded, pointing directly at Dave.

Dave froze for a split second before realizing Thad was actually talking to Nick and Jeff. Bullet dodged.

“Um…what about us?” Nick looked nervous.

Sebastian looked up from his coffee. “I’m just gonna say it: worst kept secret in Warbler history.”

Dave nodded in agreement. “Even _I_ knew.”

“You’re the new Kurt and Blaine,” Thad finished. (Jeff rolled his eyes.)

“Nick, babe,” Trent interjected, seeing that Nick looked cornered. “We all love you, and you’re gonna be who you are and whatever, but seriously, we all knew you two were in love. It was _shockingly_ obvious.”

Dave chuckled a little until he caught Sebastian’s eye. The other boy was staring openly at Trent. Dave’s eyes flicked over involuntarily, and he realized that the way Trent had turned to speak to Nick and Jeff revealed a large, dark blue bruise. On his neck. Right where he had…

Oh.

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up, and a look of realization dawned on his face. Had Dave’s heart not been beating wildly, he would have laughed. Sebastian with a hangover was completely without a filter.

Sebastian opened his mouth to say something, but Trent and Nick were still arguing, so he just looked at Dave with an “oh my god I know _exactly_ what you did last night” expression.

Dave thought very quickly. He had two options: deny it, which would definitely have Sebastian announcing it to the whole group (that bastard), or own up to it. If he knew Sebastian, that would earn him a good interrogation later. Which would, at the very least, be private.

And he also had to face the fact that he was a little proud of leaving that mark. Proud of the fact that a guy as awesome as Trent would want him enough to let him leave that mark.

So he just pressed his lips together to repress the huge grin that wanted to appear and nodded, just slightly so only Sebastian could see. The other boy’s mouth dropped open. He really had no filter whatsoever.

He was prevented from saying something by the appearance of Wes. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and, completely simultaneously, burst into applause. Wes just nodded, then laughed and took a bow before dropping into a seat next to Sebastian.

“He’s _alive_!” Jeff declared, laughing.

“I am, indeed,” Wes replied. He didn’t look too bad, but was clearly exhausted and hung over.

“Dude, where the hell _were_ you?” Trent nearly shouted, reaching across the table to ruffle Wes’s already crazy hair.

“I was… Three blocks away? Four? I don’t even know.”

Thad laughed. “How did that happen?”

Wes just shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Everyone shook their heads. It wasn’t the first time a Warbler party had resulted in someone getting lost on or around campus.

“Alright, bitches.” Sebastian sat up straighter, though he was still clutching his mug of coffee like it was a lifeline. “You know the rules. Best and worst thing you did last night.”

Everyone groaned, except Dave, who felt a little nervous. He glanced over at Nick, whose expression mirrored his feelings perfectly.

“How much… _exactly_ …do we have to share?” Nick asked cautiously.

Sebastian opened his mouth to say something, then his eyes landed on the way Jeff’s hand rested on Nick’s leg, and he closed his mouth and thought about it for a second before saying, “Details can be excluded. Seeing as half of us are already nauseous enough.” Jeff stuck his tongue out at him in response.

Dave felt the lightest brush of Trent’s hand over his knee, like a sigh of relief. He just had to come up with a plausible story.

 

~~~~

 

**96**

Sam joined them in the kitchen about half an hour later. He was still wearing the pants from his Captain America costume (still unfair), but had replaced the top with a loose tee shirt. His hair was a wild mess. He acknowledged their grins and waves with a slightly confused nod before heading for the coffee pot.

Artie didn’t notice the awkward look that passed between them, so he inadvertently made it better by asking Blaine, “Who was texting you all last night? You were _popular_.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “The Warblers threw a huge party. I haven’t read half of what they sent me, but it sounds like it got really crazy.”

Tina raised an eyebrow. “Really? Any good gossip?”

He grinned. For some reason, Tina _loved_ gossip from Dalton. He had wondered, once or twice, whether she was considering hunting for a new boyfriend among the Warblers. They’d all met at Sectionals other years and he’d seen her flirt, jokingly of course, with a few of them. “I’m sure there’s plenty. They kept texting me all night.”

“Well, share the wealth,” Artie encouraged him, mouth full of pancakes.

Blaine laughed and opened his inbox. He thought about skipping over the messages from Sebastian—first, there was so way of knowing what the other boy had written, and second, no one knew they still talked—but opened them anyway.

He gasped with surprise. For a long moment, he just sat there, frozen in shock, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

_Sebastian on his knees—_

_Blaine pulling his hair—_

Oh god. That was an image.

Artie was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Bro, you okay?”

Blaine tried to simultaneously shake his head and form full words, but he didn’t seem to be capable of it. He was about to tell them he had changed his mind and didn’t want to read them any of the messages when Artie reached across the table and snatched the phone away from him. Blaine yelped indignantly and scrambled to grab it back, ready to jump across the table if necessary.

“Artie give that back givethatback _givethatback_!”

Artie just laughed and leaned back out of Blaine’s flailing reach. “Let’s see what you’ve got here,” he laughed as he scrolled through Blaine’s messages, his free hand keeping the flailing boy at arm’s length.

Blaine slumped back in his chair and watched, cheeks burning, as Artie’s mouth dropped open. There was a very long pause as Artie looked at the messages, looked at Blaine, then back at the messages…before promptly locking the phone screen and handing it back.

“Anything good?” Sam asked from the other side of the kitchen when the silence got too awkward.

“Nothing,” they both answered quickly.

Sam just gave an awkward nod, lips pursed, then shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Alright then. I’m gonna go find some pants.”

 

~~~~

 

**97**

Best Thing/Worst Thing was another unwritten Warbler hangover tradition that Dave would never understand. It was specifically engineered to produce the greatest amount of mutual humiliation: each person had to share the best thing they had done the night before and the worst/dumbest/stupidest. If someone knew you were lying or changing details, they called you out. Loudly.

He was desperately trying to come up with something that wasn’t “well I went to Trent’s room and we hooked up for what was definitely one of the most awesome minutes of my life” as Thad told the story of how he had come to call his girlfriend at two in the morning, nearly resulting in a catastrophic breakup. The other Warblers laughed at his embarrassment, which he took easily. Dave liked Thad a lot—he faked being serious, but it hid a self-deprecating sense of humor Dave related to. He laughed along with everyone else at his own stupidity before sending the conversation over to Nick and Jeff, who looked at each other and flushed right to the tips of their ears.

“Yeah, yeah, we can guess what you two were doing last night, there’s _really_ no reason to share,” Wes teased them.

Jeff stuck his tongue out at Wes. “Okay, _fine_. Your turn, then.”

Wes laughed a little, but suddenly seemed rather nervous. “Um, my best thing and my worst thing are kinda the same. Because, well, I don’t remember it, so it could go either way.”

Trent laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Sebastian shoved Wes’s arm playfully. “So, what was it?”

Wes pulled his phone from his pocket (which, Dave noticed, had a new crack across the screen) and scrolled through it quickly before turning back to Sebastian. “According to my phone—and again, I don’t remember this at all—at 1:30 this morning I spent forty five minutes on the phone with your sister. So yeah. That could go either way.”

Sebastian’s mouth dropped open for the second time that morning. When he finally spoke, his voice had a dangerous edge. “You did _what_? So help me, Wes, if my sister calls me up mad at you, I am going to _kill_ you.”

“Whoa. Stop right there. I told you, I don’t remember what I said. Knowing me, I probably spent the entire forty five minutes telling her how much I love her. I tend to do that when I’m drunk.”

Trent just nodded in agreement. “He does.”

Sebastian huffed out a breath before returning to his coffee. “Fine. But the threat still stands.”

“Whatever, Sebastian. Don’t tell me you were any better. I know you had your phone on you, and we’ve _all_ been on the receiving end of your drunk texts.”

Dave laughed. “He’s right, you know.”

Sebastian glared at Dave over the rim of his mug. “You were supposed to take my phone, jackass.”

“Yo, don’t blame me. I stopped being responsible when you stole it back. So blame your dumbass self if you texted Blaine again.”

The look on Sebastian’s face was utterly priceless.

“Oh my god, you _did_ , didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Sebastian,” Trent warned, giving his best Sassy Bitch Look, “You know the rules about lying. I’m officially calling you out.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and put down his coffee mug. “Okay, fine. I texted Blaine Anderson and told him I wanted to give him a blowjob.”

Everyone went dead silent. Dave’s mouth dropped open. He wanted to laugh, but was too shocked to make a sound.

“So yeah. I win.”

 

~~~~

 

**98**

**Trent** : You’ll never guess who woke up in my bed this morning

 **Sophie** : Oh my god I was about to text you the same thing

 **Trent** : Wait wait wait WHAT WHO WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN

 **Trent** : ANSWER ME

 **Sophie** : Sorry I dropped my phone from laughing so hard

 **Sophie** : No one, actually. I was KIDDING

 **Trent** : Do not scare me like that

 **Trent** : I know where you were last night

 **Trent** : Strippers are a bad idea

 **Sophie** : WHAT. Strippers are ALWAYS a good idea

 **Sophie** : Anyway, joking. I’ve been so busy hooking all my friends up I haven’t had time to hook myself up

 **Sophie** : Spill

 **Trent** : You get three guesses, first two don’t count.

 **Sophie** : NO WAY

 **Trent** : Yep

 **Sophie** : I just fell out of my chair. I’m with a bunch of my Crawford friends everyone thinks I’m nuts right now

 **Sophie** : How was it??

 **Trent** : Well I mean we just slept, so…

 **Sophie** : Of course of course but you didn’t do ANYTHING else?

 **Trent** : Well

 **Sophie** : Trent

 **Trent** : We sort of like made out just a little

 **Sophie** : I’m trying to repress my happy dance

 **Sophie** : How far did you go?

 **Trent** : Not very. He didn’t want to go too far because we were drunk

 **Sophie** : Oh okay good thing then.

 **Trent** : Yeah but he crashed with me which was AWESOME

 **Sophie** : Ugh you are entirely too cuddly

 **Trent** : You love it

 **Sophie** : I do

 **Trent** : But then we all had to go to Hangover Brunch and it was impossible to think about anything else

 **Trent** : By the way did Wes really call you last night?

 **Sophie** : He did. But I believe we were talking about you and our dear friend Dave

 **Trent** : Gooooooooooooooooooood I am so happy right now

 **Trent** : Every time he looks at me I blush like an idiot

 **Trent** : I’m all rainbows and sunshine and smiles and am probably annoying the hell out of you right now

 **Sophie** : That’s what I’m here for, babe

 **Trent** : Good because I want to tell you I love you for helping make this happen

 **Trent** : I love you so much. You’re the best

 **Sophie** : Babe I didn’t do anything except suggest it to him weeks ago

 **Sophie** : Anything that happens is because of your charm and general all-around adorable-ness

 **Trent** : Ok now you’re making fun of me

 **Sophie** : Sorry. Too easy. Had to take it.

 **Trent** : Whatever. I still love you.

 **Sophie** : Love you more. Tell Wes I say he’s an idiot, okay? Gotta go. Mimosas are calling

 **Trent** : What? Teach me your non-hungover ways

 **Sophie** : Someday.

 

~~~~

 

**99**

Blaine was feeling a little better after breakfast and, still needing to apologize, went looking for Sam.

He still felt pretty awkward (had they really made out in front of _everyone_? How drunk had Sam been?), but knew it had to be done. And the sooner, the better.

He found his friend packing his overnight bag, having located a pair of loose jeans to replace his costume pants. He looked up when he heard Blaine walk into the room.

“Hey,” he greeted him with his little half nod.

“Hey,” Blaine repeated, suddenly tongue tied, thinking of the way Sam’s lips had felt the night before.

He brought himself back into focus. This had to be done.

“So… I’m sorry about last night. I’m embarrassed. The way I acted was really inappropriate.”

Sam just shrugged. “No big deal, dude. We were pretty hammered.”

Blaine didn’t miss the faint flush over Sam’s cheekbones. “Yeah, but still. I’m sorry. Um… Want to just pretend we both forget it ever happened?”

Sam laughed a little. “That’s probably for the best. I mean…You’re my bro and all, but yeah, we were a little overenthusiastic.”

Blaine managed a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it, I guess. So…We’re okay?”

“Yeah, dude. Like I said, no big deal. Um. Your friends make it through the night okay? Artie seemed kinda freaked out when he looked at your phone.”

Blaine flushed a little, thinking of what he’d seen of Sebastian’s texts. He’d only read two. There were a _lot_ more. Which he would have to read at some point.

_Okay focus focus focus._

“I think so. One of the guys sent me a picture… which I’m not sure was meant for me.”

Sam thought about that for a second, then realization dawned. “Oh. That’s awkward.”

“Yeah. I’m going to have a fun time explaining that to Artie.”

“Well, good luck with that. I’m gonna get some more coffee.” He gave Blaine a half-smile and a squeeze on his shoulder as he passed by on his way into the kitchen.

Blaine waited a moment to make sure he was alone in the room, then took his phone out of his pocket.

He stared at it for a long while without unlocking the screen.

_Do I really want to know what Sebastian wrote?_

Half of him said no. The things Sebastian was talking about—they were just _friends_. He couldn’t think about the other boy that way. Not when he had just broken up with Kurt.

But the other half of his brain was screaming _yes yes yes GOD YES_. Somewhere deep down, he wanted to know what Sebastian wanted from him. What Sebastian wanted to do _to_ him. What secret fantasies he was harboring. And whether they were the same ones Blaine never, ever allowed himself to dwell on.

He unlocked the screen and opened the first of Sebastian’s messages. Regardless of what he was feeling, it couldn’t hurt just to look.


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings for this chapter: Underage drinking and a tipsy makeout session with spoken consent.**

 

**99.5**

Body Shots, Kisses, and Awesome Ideas: a Niff sidestory

Summary: Certain events of Sebastian’s birthday party, from Jeff’s perspective.

Events from this post.

Warnings: Underage drinking and a tipsy makeout session.

 

The body shots were quite possibly the best idea he’d ever had.

Check that: Nick licking the salt off his neck? Yep. Best idea _ever_.

It felt so good--especially when they traded places, because Nick made this little _sound_ that made him shiver--that maybe they had done one too many. The room tilted a little when he moved, not unpleasantly but in a way that made him want to just stay on the couch for a few minutes. He had plenty to observe, with all his friends drunk, dancing, and joking around with each other.

He was a quiet drunk, which was weird, because everyone expected him to be running around and causing a mess. That role was actually filled by the normally thoughtful and reserved Nick, who, at that exact moment, was dancing with Trent, laughing with loudly his head thrown back.

Jeff liked to watch people, really. It was funny the things you noticed when no one else was paying attention.

For example—and maybe this was just “drunk wisdom” and would prove wrong the next day—Jeff was absolutely certain there was something going on between Dave and Trent. It was in the way they _weren’t_ interacting—instead they were circling around each other, watching each other with looks in their eyes that were half lustful and half shy.

He was trying to watch Trent to figure out if he was right when the song changed and Nick started dancing again. And _oh. My. God._ He thought he knew everything about his best friend, including the way he moved, but he had no idea Nick could move his hips that way. When did he learn to move like that—and why had he been hiding it?

He realized he was staring when Nick saw him out of the corner of his eye, grinned wickedly, and kept dancing. Trent saw him staring too, laughed, and gave Nick a shove in Jeff’s direction.

He landed less than gracefully on his knees next to Jeff, so close he could feel the heat off his skin. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

His friend blushed. “I wanna kiss you.”

Jeff smiled. “That’s good, cause I want you to kiss me.”

And without any hesitation, they kissed in front of everyone for the first time.  He heard someone cheer, but they ignored it, Nick’s tongue sweeping past Jeff’s lips. It was still such a new sensation that Jeff couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, which Nick responded to by leaning in, resting his hands on Jeff’s thighs for balance.

Someone gave Nick and congratulatory slap on the back, knocking him right onto Jeff and the two of them backwards into the couch. They both burst out laughing, Nick lying on top of Jeff, their faces so close that it was all Jeff could do to resist going in for another kiss. He noticed, then, that in the process of falling over, he’d accidentally slid his hand in Nick’s shirt.

He just laughed again. “Shit, sorry,” he apologized as he removed the offending hand.

Nick laughed a little too. “It’s okay."

Jeff loved it. He was swept away by it all: how new it was to him, how good it felt, the joy of finally getting what he’d wanted for so long. Nick’s skin was warm through his shirt. Nick’s fingers, meanwhile, were tangled in his hair, tugging gently in a way he never knew he liked.

Leave it to Trent freaking Nixon to ruin the moment. Things were just getting _really_ good (he would later, soberly, realize that really good at the time meant wildly inappropriate) when Trent grabbed Nick by the back of his shirt and lifted him bodily up off the couch and Jeff.

“Sorry, I need to borrow him for a second,” was the only explanation he gave before pulling Nick away.

Jeff just lay back on the couch and laughed, covering his eyes with one hand so he didn’t have to look at anyone else and get embarrassed about what they’d just done.

This was the best night _ever_.

 

~~~~

**100**

Monday evening, Sebastian finally heard from Blaine again. He’d wrapped up Warbler rehearsal and headed back to his dorm room to look over his photo prints one last time (the self-portrait assignment had been surprisingly difficult, and he was having trouble choosing one to submit) when he noticed he’d missed two texts.

 **Blaine (5:00pm):** Hey. I hope you had a good weekend. I’m sorry for disappearing.

 **Blaine (6:15pm)** : Text me or something if you get a chance, I guess.

 **Sebastian (7:30pm)** : Hey killer. So where were you Friday? We had shots ready for you and everything.

 **Blaine** : Sorry. It’s been a rough couple weeks. Wanted to be with my McKinley friends.

 _Okay_ , Sebastian thought to himself, _I’m not playing this game with him_.

He tapped his phone screen and dialed Blaine’s number. The boy’s voice on the other end was surprised. “Hello?”

“Hey, wonderboy. So what happened to you?”

“I um… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t feeling well.”

“I promised to be nice, but I’m calling you on your bullshit right now. What happened, golden boy? Get scared off? I _did_ promise I’d keep Trent’s hands off you.”

He heard Blaine sigh on the other end. “I just… Kurt broke up with me. About two weeks ago. It’s been rough.”

 _Wait...WHAT_?

It took a second before Sebastian realized he hadn’t said it out loud. He heard Blaine shifting uncomfortably. “Sebastian?”

“I um… Wow. Gotta hand it to you, wonderboy, wasn’t expecting that. Um. Are you okay?”

He heard Blaine rustling around. Good lord, was he already in bed? “Not really.”

“I’m… Wow, B. That…sucks. Um, do you need anything?”

“I just…” He heard blankets rustling again. “Could you… come over? Maybe?”

The question hit him like a ton of bricks. Blaine Anderson. Newly single Blaine Anderson. Wanted him, Sebastian Smythe, to come over. At night. While he was single.

“Yeah,” he replied almost too fast and tried to recover with a smirk. “I sneak out after curfew all the time. Want me to bring something to drink? I think this calls for bourbon.”

He heard Blaine’s disgusted sigh. “You know what, forget it. If that’s the way you’re gonna be.”

“Jesus, wonderboy, I was joking. Give me half an hour.”

“Okay.” A long pause. “Thanks.”

He hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get dressed. Old sweatpants and his Dalton lacrosse tee shirt were definitely not appropriate attire.

Dave walked in as Sebastian was finishing getting dressed, pulling a dark gray sweater over his head.

“Hey.” Dave watched as Sebastian grabbed his keys and phone. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Bar?”

“No. Definitely not.”

Dave sent him a look of confusion. “Dude…what’s going on?”

Sebastian paused just inside the door. “I can’t really tell you, big guy. But if this backfires on me… I give you permission to mock me for the rest of my life.”

Dave just shook his head. “Whatever you say, man. Don’t wake me up when you come back.”

 

~~~~

**Backstory bonus post, how Wes realized he was in love with Sophie**

Author’s note: Some backstory and context for Sophie and Wes’s relationship.

 

Of all the things that could have happened to him during his junior year, Wes never expected he’d fall in love with Sophie Smythe.

Though she’d first appeared in his life in October, they didn’t officially speak until almost two months later, right before Christmas. They’d smile and nod to each other across the room, just to be friendly, but he couldn’t say they were _friends_. He had heard about her from Jeff and Trent, who she hung out with when she dropped by Dalton to say hello or watch rehearsal, and she had undoubtedly heard something about him, either from them or Sebastian.

When she’d first shown up, he hadn’t really known what to make of her. She was so _quiet_ , especially when contrasted with her bossy, pushy brother. She spoke only to Trent at first, and even then, only a few words at a time, so quiet he never overheard a full sentence. She had a sweet smile that flickered quickly across her face, there and gone again in an instant.

She reminded him a lot of Blaine, if he was being honest. When Blaine had first shown up at Dalton, he behaved in a similar way—quiet, shy, flinching away from people. Sophie was just more subtle about it. Trent had taken to Blaine the same way: there was something about Trent that made him want to protect other people, like he saw that they were vulnerable.

Whatever it was, it worked wonders on Sophie, who became a constant presence at Warbler rehearsal. She was a phenomenal dancer, and even better when she got to work with Jeff. Between the two of them, they brought the team to a completely new level.

It was a Tuesday afternoon rehearsal in December when she walked up to him out of nowhere and extended her hand. He remembered exactly how she looked: button-down uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up, skirt slightly askew, bare feet, hair pulled up in a ponytail. There was a soft flush on her freckled cheeks from dancing, and she had the most amazing lopsided smile that made her green eyes sparkle.

“I just realized,” she began as he stared at her, “I never actually introduced myself to you. I’m Sophie.”

“I….” He found his voice. “I’m Wes.” He took her thin, warm hand.

She smiled a little wider. “Nice to officially meet you, Wes.”

He wanted to say something (his mind was screaming at him, _talk to her, dumbass_!) but at that moment, Jeff yelled to her from across the room. She dropped his hand with a sigh.

“Sorry. Dancing calls.” She turned away, then paused and pivoted back to him. “Is it okay if I steal your phone number from someone? I feel bad that we haven’t ever talked.”

He barely managed to nod. “I uh, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Cool.”

He didn’t know exactly what to expect from her, and even after they started talking on a regular basis, that never changed. As she came more and more out of her shell, revealing a cheerful, sassy personality he didn’t know she possessed, he became fascinated. She’d text him at unpredictable intervals—random pictures whenever she found something interesting, followed by a day of silence, followed by a deep, three hour conversation that lasted late into the night. They talked at first about school and the Warblers and music, but found quickly they had a shared love of Tim Burton movies, Neil Gaiman, and ballet (she had thirteen years of training, he just appreciated it), and after that, it became easier to talk to her about anything. By early February, she was the first person he told when something random or funny happened, and she responded in kind with wild stories from her day.

The tone changed at rehearsal as well. While she spent most of her time working with Jeff, she had a little group—Jeff, Nick, Trent, and Beatz mostly—who hung around her during off moments. He’d look over and see them talking and laughing. And one day, without any fanfare or making a big deal out of it, she saw him looking and waved him over. From then on, he was part of the little circle, always standing directly next to her. It was different than just being with the Warblers. Not that he’d ever felt left out of the group, quite the opposite. But being part of that smaller group felt somehow special.

And then, after the slushie incident, she vanished. Just like that. He heard from Trent that she was no longer on speaking terms with her brother, and wasn’t planning on coming back until all the Warblers shaped up, stopped participating in his pranks, and apologized to Blaine. They’d already done that last part, and he tried asking her to come back, even just to hang out. She refused.

He was shocked when he realized how much he missed her. When he stood outside the rehearsal room door and didn’t hear her laughing, he felt something in his chest go hollow. When his phone didn’t light up with picture messages or late-night phone calls, he itched to talk to her. He tried contacting her—over and over again, actually, until he realized he had to stop because he was risking going too far—but it was no use. She just wasn’t there anymore.

And just as suddenly, she was back. It happened after they heard about Dave Karofsky, though he wasn’t sure that had anything to do with it. She never mentioned it, just breezed right back into rehearsal, taking her usual spot at the front of the group with Jeff. They had to work at a frantic pace to get their Sectionals set ready, and she went at it with a focused intensity that made everyone obey her.

After the first rehearsal—and yes, he _did_ realize he’d spent the whole two hours staring longingly at her back—he hung around. He wasn’t exactly waiting for her, but there weren’t any other reasons for him to be there.

She finally noticed him just about the time he started to feel awkward, and something like regret crossed her face. She shooed Trent out with only a cursory explanation, leaving them alone, facing each other from across the room, she at the door, and him at the piano.

“Hey,” she finally said when the moment of silence hung too long.

“Hey,” he responded. He didn’t really know what to say. So he took a deep breath and decided to be honest. “I missed you.”

Her expression softened. The tense hold of her shoulders seemed to dissolve. “I missed you too.”

He crossed the room slowly, trying not to crowd or startle her, remembering the way she’d flinched away from the other boys only a few months before. He stopped at arm’s length, close enough that he could smell her perfume but far enough to be respectful. When their eyes met, and she smiled, he reached for her hand and she let him take it.

It was warm, just like the first time they’d touched, and he noticed as he ran his thumb gently across her knuckles that her nails were bitten down and ragged. It seemed so out of place.

But he stopped thinking about that when she stepped forward and circled her arms around his waist.

He knew then that he was gone.

There were a million reasons why being in love with Sophie was a terrible idea. First and foremost, there was her brother. Simply put, Wes still didn’t like him, and the two of them, being twins and having mended their relationship, were borderline inseparable. Second, there was the fact that Sebastian was the most ridiculously overprotective brother Wes had ever met.

He understood Sebastian’s inclination to look out for his younger sister. Really. But the guy just took it too far.

Everyone knew that Beatz had flirted with Sophie around the time she’d first started visiting. It wasn’t the approach Wes would have taken, but Beatz was a genuinely nice guy and really liked her. And it seemed to everyone else that she liked him just fine, or at the very least enjoyed talking with him. Then he’d made the mistake of flirting with her in front of Sebastian. No one knew exactly what Sebastian said to him, but it was enough that all flirting, touching, and practically all communication between the two stopped. In fact, Beatz gave Sophie a three-foot personal space bubble every day for a month.

(Wes found out later that communication—and even flirting—between the two hadn’t stopped at all, but had simply gone platonic by mutual agreement. Since by that time he was head over heels, he was pretty happy about that.)

And finally, there was something about Sophie that made Wes feel like he had to tread carefully. He sensed it when she first arrived, so incredibly shy she could barely even speak. It was in the way she folded into herself, just slightly, when conversations got too loud or someone shouted, even joking. It was the way she flinched when someone touched her unexpectedly.

Wes didn’t know what had happened to make her that way, and the more he got to know her true personality—bold, fun, even a little loud—he grew even more concerned. For a girl like her to shut down that way, it must have been serious.

He never asked, though. It was none of his business.  If she wanted to tell him, she would.

So when he embraced her for the first time in the rehearsal room that February evening, he was conflicted. He liked Sophie a lot, and he wanted to be sweet to her and hold her hand and try to keep up with her flitting, random text message conversations. And on the other hand, he wanted to step away and maintain his distance so that he knew he would never hurt her.

The decision was made for him three weeks later. He’d gone home for the weekend since his parents were going out of town (anniversary trip) and someone had to look after his six-year-old brother, which always fell to Wes because his brother, Max, was deaf. Wes and his parents had learned sign language as soon as they found out, but there were few other people his age who were willing to babysit and could communicate with the boy. So the responsibility always fell to him, not that he minded—Max was pretty cool for a first grader, and it meant a weekend running around and watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Sophie texted him out of the blue as he was making lunch for Max and himself on Saturday.

 **Sophie** : Hey! What are you up to today?

 **Wes** : Hi! I’m babysitting my little brother. Exciting, I know.

 **Sophie** : Sounds like fun. Would you like some company? I’m really good with kids and I DESPERATELY need to get out of this house.

 **Wes** : Well how can I turn that down? You’re welcome here any time.

 **Wes** : There is one thing you should know. Max-that’s my brother-is deaf. We try not to make a big deal out of it, but he doesn’t talk, just sign language.

 **Sophie** : Oh, okay. I learned some sign language a few years ago. I’m pretty rusty but I’ll try.

 **Wes** : Is there anything you can’t do? Serious question.

 **Sophie** : Oh honey, wouldn’t you love to find out.

The last message made him blush—Sophie shared her brother’s talent for turning innocent statements into innuendo, though she used it on him much less frequently. She liked seeing him squirm, though she was only teasing.

Still, he felt all out of sorts when she showed up half an hour later. She was wearing jeans and a thin green sweater that fell off one shoulder.  He’d never seen her in anything but her school uniform, so it was a bit of a shock to realize she had an actual _body_ under the square, loose Crawford clothes.

He’d also never really noticed a girl’s neck like he did at that moment. But with her hair swept up in a bun, he could see the scattered freckles on her creamy skin, all the way down past her collarbone and hidden under her sweater.

She smiled when he paused just a little too long. “So, hi.”

“Hi. Sorry. I was staring.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you were.”

He cringed inwardly at himself. _Dumbass_. “Anyway. Now that I’ve made things awkward, would you like to come in?”

“Why, I’d love to.”

Thankfully, Max saved them from trying to make conversation after his little involuntary admission by sprinting over to see who was at the door.

 _Hi. Who are you?_ he signed to Sophie.

She smiled. _Hi. My name is Sophie_ , she signed, a little slowly, as if trying to remember all the words.

Max looked up at Wes and asked, _is she coming to the park with us?_

He couldn’t help but grin a little at his kid brother’s enthusiasm. _Maybe you should ask her._

Max turned and asked Sophie the same question. She looked puzzled, then totally lost. “I’m sorry,” she said to Wes, “I only got about half of that.”

He laughed. “He asked if you’re coming to the park with us. We were planning to go and run around for a while.”

She smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

By the time they got back late in the afternoon, Wes was exhausted but Sophie seemed like she could keep running around for hours. Her cheeks were flushed from the early-evening chill and from the exertion of chasing Max, pushing him on the swings, and endlessly teasing Wes. The knees of her jeans were grass stained from tackling him (Wes, not Max, though Max had tried to climb on her back) during a game of freeze tag, sending them tumbling across the ground, breathless with laughter. He knew that he was just as disheveled, but for the first time, didn’t care.

They ordered pizza and the three of them ate in the living room, piled onto a bunch of blankets and pillows while they watched “Up.” Max fell asleep between them and they let him stay there, his head on Wes’s shoulder, until the movie ended and Wes carried him up to bed.

When he came down, the end credits were rolling and Sophie was curled up on the floor, looking intently at her phone. It was after nine—by no means late, but different for the two of them. While they often talked late into the night, they only spent time together in person at Warbler rehearsal. They’d never been on a real date.

When she heard him come in, she looked up from her phone and smiled broadly. “Hey. Max still asleep?”

He stopped a few steps away, suddenly unsure whether he should sit back down. He tried frantically to remember the last time they’d been alone together. When he realized it was the afternoon at Dalton that he told her he missed her, he felt even more awkward. “Uh, yeah. I um… I’m not sure what you had planned for tonight, but, if you have to go…”

She shrugged casually, putting her phone down. “I don’t have to. No one expects me back tonight, so… I was thinking, it’s been a while since I watched ‘Big Fish.’”

“Oh. Um… I think I have it here somewhere.”

He didn’t know if she’d picked it intentionally, or if she even remembered, but their mutual love of the movie ‘Big Fish’ had prompted one of their first long conversations. He was watching it one night while doing homework when he got her text, a simple “whatcha doing?” and when he told her, she instantly called and began gushing about how much she loved the movie. They continued talking for two hours about everything, starting a long and winding conversation that began with their love of storytelling and ended somewhere around midnight with Sophie _insisting_ he read  Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell before she drifted off to sleep, still on the phone with him. He wondered if she felt the same combination of wonder and trepidation he’d felt that night. He wondered if she remembered.

His wondering increased (and got a little more frantic and confused) when, half an hour into the movie, she snuggled in close and leaned her head on his shoulder. She was warm and soft, and he could smell the last faint traces of her green apple perfume.

He turned his head to look down at her—and she was already looking up at him, her round green eyes and flushed pink lips filling his vision. His heart raced.

Before he could think too much about it, he leaned down and kissed her.

Just like her, the kiss was warm and soft and sweet, her lips tasting like raspberry balm. It lasted only a moment, but when they pulled back she smiled and whispered, “wow,” and he kissed her again. He meant to keep it light and slow, but when her lips parted and her tongue flicked gently against his, all thoughts disappeared. He leaned into it and reached for her to pull her closer too, one hand trailing up her leg to rest on her hip.

When he tightened his grip on her, though, he felt her go tense and suck in a quick, startled breath. He was already apologizing when he broke the kiss and removed his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“No,” she interrupted him, pulling at the hem of her sweater. “ _I’m_ sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She managed a small smile, nervous but sweet. “I liked it. Really. It’s just… I’ve had some bad experiences. I guess I’m not as ready as I thought I was.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

She laughed a little. “Oh my _god,_ Wes, stop apologizing.”

“I um… I guess I shouldn’t say sorry for apologizing so much, should I.”

She smirked and cuddled back against him. “You’re ridiculous.”

He sighed a fake put-upon sigh. “I’m sort of awkward. Yeah, I know.”

“Hush and watch the movie.”

As she reached over to entwine their fingers, he smirked down at her. “Can I kiss you again when it’s over?”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, too. “Yes, silly, of course you can.”

~~~~

**101**

**Wes:** So I’ll be the first to break the embarrassed silence… I don’t remember a thing I said Friday night.

**Wes:** But if I said anything inappropriate or if I upset you in any way, I am so sorry. I blame your brother. Also Jeff. And tequila.

 **Wes** : Mostly just Jeff for supplying tequila.

 **Sophie:** Hi boo. No need to worry. You were just fine

 **Sophie:** I mean you were hammered, but

 **Wes:** Um so what did I say? You know just for future reference

 **Sophie:** It was sorta hard to hear you, so I only got every third word or so. Were you outside?

 **Wes:** Possibly.

 **Sophie:** Okay that explains it. You were sorta mumbling.

 **Sophie:** You spent a lot of time telling me I’m pretty and you love me.

 **Wes:** Okay I could have done a lot worse I guess.

 **Sophie:** What, no romantic declarations? “You know it’s true, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met?”

 **Wes:** March, actually.

 **Wes:** Shit sorry you don’t have to say anything

 **Wes** : Hi my name is Wes and I am incredibly awkward

 **Sophie:** I’m just surprised you came out and said it.

 **Wes:** Yeah I’ve been holding that in for a few months

 **Sophie:** I was expecting you to hold out for a while longer.

 **Wes:** You knew?

 **Sophie:** Sweetie, you’re adorably obvious.

 **Sophie** : I mean after our little one-on-one dance session a couple weeks ago even Jeff mentioned it

 **Sophie:** And I mean it’s JEFF come on, sometimes I jingle my keys at him just to keep his attention.

 **Wes:** You made bets with the other guys, didn’t you?

 **Sophie:** Put my money on June

 **Sophie:** …I should probably apologize

 **Wes:** I’m actually laughing, so we’re all good. Who won?

 **Sophie:** Nick, I think. Jackass.

 **Sophie:** Um can I be super cheesy for a second?

 **Wes:** I get to make fun of you

 **Sophie:** I think I won.

 **Wes:** Laaaaaaame

 **Sophie:** I gotta go. Dance class. Hugs and kisses

 **Wes:** Someday

 **Sophie:** Laaaaaaame

 

~~~~

 

**102**

**Sebastian** : I’m on my way

 **Sebastian** : I’m here.

 **Sebastian** : Open the door

 **Blaine** : It’s unlocked. I’m upstairs.

Sebastian did _not_ sit in his car down the block from Blaine’s house for ten minutes before he got the guts to send an “I’m here.” He did _not_ fidget on the front steps before Blaine told him the door was unlocked. And he _definitely did not_ take the stairs up to Blaine’s room two at a time.

He paused outside Blaine’s bedroom door to collect himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he knocked and waited for Blaine to call him in.

The door swung open instead and there he was. He had a blanket over his shoulders and was wearing sweats and an old Dalton tee-shirt. His wildly curly hair was sticking up every which way and he had the shadow of stubble across his cheeks. He had also, clearly, been crying.

They stood in paralyzed silence for a few seconds, neither of them sure exactly what to do, before Sebastian opened his mouth. “Oh my god, it’s worse than I thought.”

Blaine looked indignant and a little hurt. “Hello to you too,” he snapped, making a move to step back into his room and probably slam the door in Sebastian’s face.

“I mean… Dammit. Blaine. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I definitely need to change our plans. Get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed. I was going to stay here and, I don’t know, cuddle with you and listen to your sorrows or whatever, but we definitely need to get your ass out of this house.”

Blaine looked around his room uncomfortably. “I’m not gonna change with you here.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wait outside. Just hurry up, will you? This calls for desperate measures.”

Blaine sighed and closed the door. Sebastian just waited outside, hands crammed in his pockets, trying to pretend his mind wasn’t racing. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts, mentally debating whether to text his sister or not. She usually gave good advice, but would make fun of him relentlessly for at least a week.

“So where are we going?” Blaine called through the door.

“It’s a bit hard to explain,” he called back, deciding that yeah, having Sophie around for this occasion would be a good idea. He fired off a quick text before responding to Blaine again.

 **Sebastian** : Diner?

 **Sophie** : Fuck yes. I’ll put pants on.

 **Sebastian** : Solid plan.

“It’s a stupid tradition my sister and I have. I guarantee it’ll make you feel better.”

The door opened and Blaine emerged again, this time dressed in jeans and a dark gray hoodie. His hair was a less messy, though it was still curly. Sebastian tried not to focus on how _adorable_ he looked. If there was ever a wrong time…

“Is she coming?”  
“She can, if it makes you feel, I don’t know, _safer_ around me or whatever.”

He watched as Blaine paused and nibbled on his lower lip a little bit. There was something a little off, even awkward about the way he looked up at him. Sebastian realized he was probably still embarrassed about the text messages that had been sent over the weekend.

Yeah, having impervious-to-awkward-situations Sophie around to break the ice would definitely be a good idea. There was no use trying to flirt with or make a move on Blaine anyway.

“We can pick her up on our way over.”

 

~~~~

 

**103**

They drove for the first ten minutes in total silence, Sebastian trying to focus on the road and not on the warmth he could almost _feel_ radiating from Blaine, and Blaine staring resolutely out the window as if embarrassed. Finally, Blaine sighed and looked over at him.

“So… You never told me where we’re going.”

Sebastian grinned. “Unfortunately, this time isn’t as much of a surprise as the bell tower.” That got a little smile from Blaine, so he continued. “My sister and I have this tradition. Whenever we’ve had a really crappy day, or we just need to get the fuck out of wherever we are, I sneak off campus, pick her up, and we go to this really awful diner outside Westerville. You’ve probably never been there, it’s pretty bad. So we go, and we sit there until some ridiculous hour in the morning, and eat bad diner food and just bitch and hit on drunk guys and blow off steam. It sounds really lame and I feel kind of stupid dragging you along, but you’d be surprised how much better you feel after a greasy diner breakfast.”

He caught Blaine’s expression out of the corner of his eye. It was one he’d seen before—a mixture of surprise, doubt, and something else he could never quite put his finger on.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow in return. “What?”

Blaine shook his head a little. “Nothing. I’m just…surprised, that’s all.”

“I _am_ full of surprises. Alright, here we are.”

They had stopped in the driveway of Sebastian’s house, and for the first time, Sebastian felt a pang of embarrassment. Like yes, I live _here_. The three members of my family take up _this much space_.

To cover up the embarrassment, he dialed Sophie’s number. He didn’t bother bringing the phone to his ear—there was no chance she was going to pick up—so he just let it the ringing fill the awkward silence.

Above them, on the second floor, a window lit up as curtains were pulled back. He could see Sophie inside, looking out for him.

“Hang on just a second,” he said to Blaine before opening the car door and stepping out. Sophie spotted him and opened the window, leaning out while pulling on her hoodie.

He grinned up at her as he yelled, “Bitch, get down here!”

She laughed and shouted back. “Fuck you! I’m getting _dressed_!”

Sebastian laughed too and glanced over at Blaine, who had clearly heard them inside the car and looked a little scandalized.

 _Well, wonderboy, better get used to it… It’s about to get a lot worse_.

 

~~~~

 

**104**

Blaine had heard Sophie and Sebastian yell at each other before, but it never failed to surprise him. It was an unusual concept for him to hide affection behind terms like “fuck you,” but clearly it worked for the Smythe twins.

He watched as Sophie locked the front door behind her and ran to her brother, who laughed and picked her up off the ground in a hug. He whispered something in her ear, which made her draw back with a shocked look on her face before she smacked his arm (a little too hard to be really playful, but not hard enough for her to be mad) and jumped into the back seat of the car.

Blaine turned around to greet her, but lost all words when she grabbed the front of his sweater and planted a firm kiss right on his lips.

“Hi, Blaine,” she greeted him through her giggles when she pulled away.

He just blinked at her in shock, his brain unable to focus on anything but the fact that her lips tasted like raspberries. It just made her laugh harder. “Sebastian, I think I broke him.”

Sebastian sighed and banged his head against the headrest in frustration. “Sophie, _darling_ , please behave yourself. We’re here to make him feel _better_ , remember?”

“Sorry Blaine,” she responded with a fake pout.

He was finally able to laugh it off. “It’s okay.” His brain was spiraling in a very strange direction—if that was what it was like to kiss Sophie… _Oh no no no no not going there_.

“So how are you, baby?” she asked him as she sat back, fiddling with the buttons on her coat.

“I’m alright, I guess. What about you?”

She shrugged. “Working on my college application. It sucks.”

Blaine inwardly flinched. He’d been meaning to start on his _six_ applications, but hadn’t had much energy to do anything. “Where are you applying?”

“Julliard.” A smile spread across her face. “I know it’s stupid, you know, eggs in one basket and all that, but….” Another shrug.

“I like it. Dreaming big.”

“Thanks. So, what’s the occasion? Sebastian never lets _anyone_ intrude on our diner dates.”

He saw Sebastian roll his eyes as he turned to back the car out of the driveway, but he refrained from making a comment. Blaine chewed on his lower lip, debating whether or not to answer. Then, he decided, might as well. It was bound to get out anyway.

“I um… Kurt and I broke up. I guess Sebastian thought I needed cheering up.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” The concern in Sophie’s voice was genuine, but lasted only a moment, because after a pause she added, “Well the good news is, when you’re ready to date again, let me know. I can hook you up with _any_ of the Warblers.”

Blaine rolled his eyes in exasperation. Really, sometimes the Smythe siblings’ inability to be serious was just too much.

He would not look at Sebastian.

He did not look at Sebastian.

He looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian was staring out the windshield. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he _might_ have been a little flushed.  
“Thanks, Sophie, but I’m pretty sure a bunch of the guys are straight, for starters.”

Her smirk was exactly like her brother’s. “Oh please, Blaine. Straight or not, every one of the Warblers would jump at the chance, just because you’re you.” She held up one finger and produced her cell phone from her coat pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it to you. Sebastian, who’s the straightest guy in the Warblers?”

“Beatz,” Sebastian responded without even stopping to think about it.

Sophie giggled as she dialed a number. “God, _so_ true.” It began ringing on speakerphone, filling the car.

After three rings, it picked up and Beatz answered. “Hey babe, what’s up?”

“Beatz. My love. I have a question for you. But first, I feel it’s only fair to warn you of two things. One, you’re on speakerphone and I’m in the car with Blaine Warbler Anderson and my dear brother. Second, answering this question will do nothing to diminish your _astonishing_ level of heterosexuality.”

Beatz laughed on the other line. “Oh, this is gonna be good. Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker too. I’m with Nick and Jeff. Say hey to Sophie, guys.” Both boys yelled “Hi, Sophie,” into the phone, making her laugh.

“Hi, my lovelies. So, Beatz, you ready?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

“Hypothetical situation: if our dear Blaine Anderson were single, would you date him?”

“Hell yes,” Beatz responded without pausing. Blaine could hear Nick and Jeff laughing behind him. “I would _totally_ date Blaine. I’d be a gentleman and everything.”

Blaine felt himself blushing fiercely, even though he was laughing along with her. “Sophie, please stop.”

Sophie just smiled wickedly at him. “Thank you, Beatz, you’ve helped me prove the Theory of Blaine Anderson’s Complete Irresistibility. I’ll text you later.”

“Glad I could help. Let me know if you need any more proof of my straightness.” Blaine heard the raised eyebrow in his voice.

“You’re still on speaker.”

“Shit. Hanging up now.”

Sophie’s phone went dark and she stuffed it back in her pocket. “Well, Blaine, there you have it.”

He smiled, even though he was so embarrassed he wanted to dig a very deep hole and crawl into it. “Thanks, Sophie, but I’m not gonna date Beatz.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t say you have to. I was just proving a point. _Every single Warbler_ …” He didn’t miss the way she raised an eyebrow. _Oh god. She’s staring a hole in the back of Sebastian’s head. I’m so embarrassed I might die_. “Is just _dying_ for a chance with you. When you’re ready, of course.”

He stole a glance at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to make out his expression, but he could see the tense set of his jaw. He seemed a little embarrassed. That couldn’t be good, because he was either embarrassed because he _didn’t_ want him anymore or because he _did_.

Blaine was surprised when he thought of which was worse.

Mercifully, they pulled into the parking lot of the diner in time to keep him from going too far down that road. In a split second, he realized two things—Kurt had broken up with him in a diner, and he hadn’t even had time to worry that this would be the same one.

“Alright, here we are,” Sebastian drawled as he parked. “I’ll warn you again, Blaine, it’s pretty bad.”

When they got inside, Blaine noticed the very faintest remnants of a blush fading from Sebastian’s face.

So really, no matter how bad the diner was, it was looking to be a good night.

 

~~~~

 

**105**

They were pressed _way_ too close.

That was partially Sophie’s fault—as soon as Sebastian sat next to Blaine in the already-a-little-too-small diner booth, she swung her feet up between Blaine’s legs and the wall.

It was partially Sebastian’s fault, since he had decided to sit next to Blaine.

And…well…maybe it was a bit of Blaine’s fault as well, since he had made no attempt _not_ to sit where their thighs pressed warmly together and Sebastian’s elbows occasionally bumped his.

But Blaine found that he couldn’t resist. The Sebastian sitting next to him was looser, more open, quicker to laugh (and curse) than he had ever seen him.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

The diner was pretty bad, with harsh fluorescent lighting, worn-out vinyl booths, and dirty silverware. Sophie quickly warned him away from “anything except breakfast or cheese fries, seriously,” so he stuck with scrambled eggs and toast. (Sophie got chili cheese fries. Sebastian got chocolate chip pancakes. “Judge me all you want.”)

The diner was nearly empty except for a few long-haul trucker types at the counter, but since the Smythe twins apparently knew all the staff (they seemed to be there a lot) they got to make as much noise as they wanted.

They chatted about nothing serious for a while, Sophie occasionally kicking Blaine to make a point, which irritated him so much he took an ice cube out of his water glass and threw it down the front of her sweatshirt, causing both boys to break into hysterical laughter as she shrieked and tried to get it out. When she unzipped her sweatshirt (she was, thankfully, wearing something underneath) something suddenly dawned on him, and before he could think of the full implications of it, he opened his mouth.

“You know, Sophie, I just realized something.”

She looked up from where she had finally fished the offending ice cube out of her tank top. “Is it that you’re an asshole? Because I figured it out first, sorry.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, but nice try. Seriously, I just realized this is only, like, the second time I’ve seen you wear something other than your uniform. I was beginning to think you didn’t have any other clothes.”

She raised an eyebrow, then decided to play along. “And I was beginning to think you only owned pants that were _just slightly_ too short, but I guess I was wrong about that too. Wait, what was the other time?”

“The first time we met. At—“

“OH!” She pointed her finger directly in his face. “The Lima Bean! I remember now. When I met you and…” Her face fell. “Sorry. Changing the subject.”

“Wait,” Sebastian interrupted, “I haven’t heard this story.”

“Oh, honey,” Sophie replied, picking at her chili cheese fries with her fork, “there are a _lot_ of Blaine Anderson stories you haven’t heard.”

Blaine felt his stomach sink a little. “Oh no. What have they told you?”

She grinned her cute lopsided grin. “ _Everything_.”

“ _No_.”

“Honey, I’m friends with _Trent_. I know all your secrets. For example, the Gap Attack? Know _all_ about that. Even got a few of them to re-enact it for me.”

Blaine felt his cheeks burning. “Those jerks. I can’t believe they’d do that to me.”

“I haven’t heard this one either.” Sebastian shoved Blaine’s shoulder playfully, and when he looked over he saw that Sebastian was giving him one of his rare, genuine smiles that always seemed too big for his face. “Spill.”

Blaine sighed and closed his eyes. His blush had probably spread all the way out to his ears.

“Okay, fine. But you don’t get to laugh at me.”

 

~~~~

 

**106**

Sebastian laughed.

In fact, by the time Blaine finished the Gap Attack story, Sebastian was laughing so hard he’d laid his head down on his folded arms, tears in the corners of his eyes.

He’d gotten caught up in telling the story, singing a few bars, dancing in his seat a little. Sebastian had attempted to keep a straight face for the first minute, but when Blaine told him what song he’d chosen, he’d choked on his coffee and burst into huge, head thrown back laughter and there was no stopping him after that. So Blaine had just decided to go for it, putting aside how embarrassed he felt and milking every stupid detail, even cracking himself up once.

When he finally finished, Sebastian took a deep breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I gotta hand it to you, Blaine, that is the most _ridiculous_ story I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you got the guys to agree to that.”

He shrugged. “Just my overwhelming charisma, I guess.”

Sophie smirked. “ _Told you_ they’re all in love with you.”

There was a long, awkward pause while he adamantly didn’t look at Sebastian.

“Sorry, made it awkward.” Blaine didn’t miss that Sebastian glared at his sister. She drummed her hands lightly on the table. “So, it’s late. We should probably go. I wouldn’t push your luck after the last time you got caught.”

Sebastian chuckled. “That was a close one. But yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s get going.”

“Oh, wait!” Sophie reached into her sweatshirt pocket and pulled out her phone. “Picture. Just one more. Please?”

“Sophie, I don’t—“

“Sure,” Blaine interrupted. He realized he desperately didn’t want the night to end. He hadn’t felt that good, been able to laugh so hard, for the past few weeks. He wanted to make it last, even for one more moment. One more good moment with Sebastian. “Why not?”

She smiled at him and held up her phone. “Okay, smush in.”

They obliged, Sebastian moving so their shoulders and thighs touched, two warm points of contact.

Just before Sophie clicked the shutter, Sebastian rested his hand ever so gently on Blaine’s knee, tentatively, as if expecting him to move away.

He didn’t. And he didn’t want to.

 

~~~~

 

**107**

On the way home, Blaine’s mind was racing and he found himself sitting very quietly in the passenger seat, letting Sophie and Sebastian chat between themselves.

He felt a lot of things, and not all of them made sense together. Mostly, he felt like he’d really been let in on something special, something private, about Sebastian’s life. While all the Warblers knew Sophie and had seen the two interact, he doubted that anyone had ever seen them one-on-one the way he just had. And he seriously doubted that anyone ever saw Sebastian so loose, so loud, so completely comfortable. It was like he had been allowed to step behind the wall.

He liked it. But really, it was a matter of figuring out how much he liked it. Since he was still feeling the warm pressure of Sebastian’s hand on his knee, he was getting the feeling that he liked it a lot.

He allowed himself to drift back into the conversation, though he was finding that following a conversation between the twins was a rather difficult undertaking.

He could tell why people assumed twins were psychic: he had no idea what they were talking about more than half the time. They spoke in a mix of French and English, but sentences often drifted off into “you knows” and inside jokes and their gestures and facial expressions provided half the context. Sophie especially had a cute way of drifting off in the middle of a sentence and finishing it by fluttering her fingers at her brother, which seemed to mean, “You know that I’m talking about. Fill in the rest yourself.” Sebastian, meanwhile, had a more expressive face: a raised eyebrow could mean any one of twenty things that Blaine was only beginning to figure out.

They understood each other on a fundamental level. There was so much history, so much love (Sebastian had given up trying to hide how much he adored his sister) that there was no need for explanation.

Blaine had never had that. He and Cooper had gotten closer over the last year, yeah, but that only meant that they talked at all. Texts and emails from Cooper were an infrequent occasion, full of ramblings about his career (“Transformers” hadn’t worked out but he’d landed a new commercial, there was a new girlfriend in the picture, and so forth) and, on occasion, he did remember to ask Blaine how things were going. What he really wanted was someone he knew he could talk to and expect that they would listen and respond in the honest way Sophie and Sebastian did for each other.

“What’s it like…being a twin?” Blaine asked after they dropped Sophie back at home.

Sebastian glanced over, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just wondering…my brother is so much older than me, so we were never close. And you and Sophie…I know you try to hide it, but you’re so attached to each other. I just want to know what it’s like.”

“Wow, wonderboy, we’re going for the tough questions tonight.”

Blaine blushed and looked down at his hands. “I said you don’t have to answer.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I guess…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just never really thought about it before. To me, it’s just normal. Sophie and I are…We’re more similar than we’d ever admit, but we’re also really different in a lot of ways. So it’s not about having someone who’s exactly like you, more like someone who understands everything about you.” Suddenly his eyes lit up and he looked over at Blaine again, his voice conspiratorial. “For example. Sophie is a dancer, right? And she puts up this great show of working out all the time and eating like a rabbit, but we’re the only ones who know that I sneak out some nights and we go to that awful, disgusting diner and eat chili cheese fries and hit on drunk guys. And she’s the only one who knows that given the choice, I’d live on nothing but marshmallows and coffee for the rest of my life, so every Easter she gives me a crate of marshmallow Peeps. Pink ones, because she’s a bitch and knows that I can’t resist them. Sophie and I just know each other like that. We have a rule that we’re not allowed to keep secrets from each other. But really, I guess it’s that from the minute we were born, we never did anything separately. Sometimes people ask if it’s like we’re one person. It’s not. It’s like we’re two people who don’t work separately.” There was a pause, and suddenly it was like Sebastian was coming out of a trance, his gaze sharpening. He looked a little sheepish. “Fuck. That got really philosophical, didn’t it?”

Blaine grinned and let the moment pass. “Yeah, it did.” They sat in companionable silence for a moment, mulling over what Sebastian had just said. “So… Pink marshmallow Peeps?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Blaine, if that’s all you got out of this conversation, I’m never sharing my feelings with you again.”

Blaine laughed. “Sorry, no, that’s not all. I just thought it was funny.”

Sebastian smirked. “Well, now you know one of my many secrets. Consider yourself part of a very small, privileged circle.”

Blaine put his hand over his heart mockingly. “I’m honored.”

Sebastian laughed. “Alright, your turn. Since you psychoanalyzed me like such a _pro_ , I get to ask you a question.”

Blaine took a deep breath and made a little show of squaring his shoulders and bracing himself, which got another laugh from Sebastian. “Alright. Ask away.”

“Why do you care?”

The bluntness of the question took Blaine by surprise. “I—what do you mean, why do I care?”

“I meant exactly that. Why do you care?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? I mean… I’m supposed to…”

Sebastian sat back. “That’s just the thing. I don’t get it. You _hated_ me. Hell, you have every right to _still_ hate me—I tried to break up you and your boyfriend, I tried to sabotage your glee club— _twice—_ and then I put you in the fucking hospital. And here you are. We’ve been doing this…” Sebastian waved a hand to encompass the car, the night, the friendship itself, “for weeks now. And you’re just so fucking _nice_ that you’re sitting here with me, as friends, asking me about my sister and I’m spilling details that nobody else knows. So why? What made you care?”

“That’s not… All that stuff you did. Yeah, it was awful. But that’s not you anymore. You’re…” Blaine was at a loss for words. Wait, no. He was at the exact opposite. There were too many words, and his brain couldn’t pick the right ones.

“I’m…” Sebastian prompted him, waving his hand in an “out with it then” sort of gesture.

“You’re…” He decided to crack a joke to buy himself some time. “You’re an actual human being, first of all. With a real soul and everything.” That earned a smirk and Sebastian reached over and shoved his knee playfully. “You’re… complicated. I think that’s a good word for you, even if it’s cliché and you’re rolling your eyes at me. Yes, you can still be a complete jackass. You say stuff just to throw me off, but you’re not mean about it anymore. And I have a feeling that if someone messed with any of the Warblers—even the ones you say you don’t like—you’d sabotage them without any regret. But on the other hand, you have a two year old niece you absolutely adore. You’re useless when you visit your sister at the bakery, so she lets you sit in the back and spoils you with lemon cupcakes and coffee. And yes, you’re still going to shady bars and doing things I don’t want to even _think_ about, but some nights you’re also sneaking out to diners with Sophie or helping Nick and Jeff with their homework. Don’t even try to deny it. They told me. You love photography, and if the glances I’ve been stealing at your photos for the last few weeks are any indication, you’re really good at it. So I care because I’m friends with you. Not that guy I met a year ago. You.”

That was way more information than he’d wanted to share. He’d hoped he could get away with cracking a joke, but then the words had started spilling out and there was no stopping them. He felt like he’d laid all his cards on the table for Sebastian to see, but he knew that was ridiculous. He’d only said what he’d been thinking. What he’d been _feeling_ was an entirely different matter—and he managed to keep that close to the vest.

“Damn, wonderboy. I guess it’s ‘speak philosophically about our feelings’ night.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. It was no use.

Before he could say anything else, Sebastian had pulled the car into the driveway of Blaine’s house and parked.

And there it was. The awkward moment where he wasn’t sure what to do—the night hadn’t been a date, so he couldn’t lean in for a kiss. (Not that he wanted to. Nope. No way.) The last time he’d been in Sebastian’s car, the day of the photography adventure, Sebastian had given him a playful “now get the hell out of my car,” a smile, and a friendly goodbye.

But this time, the air felt a little heavier. Charged, somehow.

Sebastian broke it first. “So I um… What are you doing Saturday?”

_Oh god he’s going to ask me out oh my god what do I do what do I do_

“No big plans, I don’t think.”

“Good. I’m borrowing you again. I mean. Photos. You know.”

Blaine’s mind raced to the last time they had discussed photography. The last time he’d visited Dalton. “Oh yeah. Um, portraits, right?”

“Yeah. You up for getting your picture taken?”

When he turned to look at Sebastian, he was caught off guard by how close they suddenly were. He could almost feel the other boy’s warmth, the weight of his eyes, which were dark and held just the faintest look of…hope? Worry?

Desire.

That was it. Desire. Not the lustful, devouring, craving looks Sebastian used to give him. Not the look of wanting to tear his clothes off. It was the desire to hold him, to kiss him until they were both flushed and breathless and disheveled.

His mouth dropped open, and for a split second he had to stop himself from leaning in and meeting that desire.

But he pulled back, ever so slightly. And that was it, the moment was over.

“I um… Yeah. I think I can do that.”

Sebastian sat back too, suddenly no longer looking at him. “Good. I’ll text you sometime this week. I don’t suppose you’ll be back for rehearsal?”

“No. Sectionals. You know. We’re all sorta panicking. Anyway, I… I guess we’ll talk later.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian looked disappointed, and not just about rehearsal. “See you later, Blaine.”

He sat there for a second, thinking that he should do something. He’d ruined it. He’d seen the genuine Sebastian—the boy who picked him up when he was sad, let him into the really private moments of his life, and made him laugh—and he’d shot him down.

But it lasted only a second. It was gone. There was nothing he could do now.

“See you.”

He only glanced back once, after he’d unlocked the front door and the headlights began backing out of his driveway.

He didn’t see Sebastian’s face through the glare.

 

~~~~

**108**

When Blaine woke up the morning after the diner adventure, he was still tired. He’d spent most of the night lying awake, curled around his pillow, his phone cradled in one hand. Several times throughout the night, his fingers had hovered over Sebastian’s name.

He wanted to call, but he also didn’t want to call.

He wanted to call and explain. Tell him, I know that you want me, and not the way you used to.

He knew Sebastian wouldn’t deny it. He’d already shown him, so while he would probably pretend it hadn’t happened, if Blaine asked him directly, he wouldn’t lie.

But if he asked if Blaine felt the same… That’s where he ran into trouble.

Because he honestly didn’t know how to answer. He could only catch glimpses of his feelings—the split second where he wanted to kiss him, the warm feel of Sebastian’s leg pressed against his, the way his heart sank when Sebastian had pulled away. On the other hand, there was the frustration with Sebastian’s icy exterior and the lingering voice of doubt about his intentions.

He’d finally drifted off to sleep with the phone under his pillow, set to vibrate in case anyone called or texted, though he knew Sebastian wouldn’t. Not that night, at least.

He woke up still tired, his shoulders and neck aching unpleasantly. The first thing he did was check his phone. His heart leapt a little when he saw that he had gotten seven text messages overnight—but it sank again when he saw that one was from Artie, two were from Sam, and four were from Sophie.

 **Artie** : Hey bring your A game today. First full run through of the Sectionals set.

 **Sam** : So Brittany filmed spin the bottle, but don’t worry, I totally got the video from her

 **Sam** : So crisis averted, I guess. Just thought you should know.

 **Sophie** : I took a few extra pictures last night. I was gonna put them on facebook, but I didn’t want to scandalize your McKinley friends. Still… I don’t know, I thought you’d want to have them.

Three picture messages followed. The first was the one she’d taken at the very end of the night, the two of them leaning in together, shoulders touching, heads tilted toward each other. Their eyes were shining, their smiles genuine. You couldn’t tell that Sebastian had been touching him. But he knew, and it made something in his chest feel off.

The second and third were from when he was telling the Gap Attack story. In one, Blaine was doing a little dance move, and Sebastian was next to him cracking up.

But the other captured a single moment where they’d leaned toward each other, smiling broadly, so caught up in the story they hadn’t noticed the camera. He had put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to emphasize a point, and Sebastian seemed to be reaching for him, too. There was almost no distance between them.

They looked happy. They looked close.

He groaned. He really didn’t know what to feel.

He quickly typed a reply.

 **Blaine** : Thanks. It was good to see you last night.

He rolled out of bed reluctantly and faced his closet. No time to wallow in his confusion. He had to go to school and try not to think about it.

It was going to be a long day.

 

~~~~

 

**109**

Jeff wasn’t sure what to do.

He felt awkward, which was a weird feeling to get from being around his best friend.

And that was the problem: they had always just been “best friends,” but he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. If Nick was just his friend, they wouldn’t have kissed and touched and done the things they’d done the night of Sebastian’s party. He wouldn’t have woken up the next day with Nick curled up against him, head on his shoulder. Nick wouldn’t come into their dorm room after dinner and just jump right onto Jeff’s bed to snuggle with him and distract him from his homework. Friends didn’t do that.

On the other hand, they’d never said they were anything other than friends.

He smiled at the irony. After seven years of keeping his crushes on Nick a secret, all he wanted was for the two of them to sit down and have an honest conversation about how he felt.

He did not, of course, have _any_ idea how to go about having that conversation. And he was really, really nervous. But it was Nick. They’d known each other forever, and had plenty of seriously awkward conversations before. They’d figure it out like they always did.

He waited until Tuesday evening, when Nick was out of the room working on an assignment for English with Wes and Dave, to prepare himself. He didn’t go so far as to write things down—that would have been stupid—but maybe he rehearsed a few lines.

Damn lot of good it did him when Nick came striding into their room around eight and gave him that _smile_ , the one Jeff had never seen him give anyone else.

“Hey.”

Jeff couldn’t help but smile back. It felt like his heart was going to cartwheel right out of his chest. “Hey yourself.”

“I got your text earlier.” Nick tossed his notebook on his desk and jumped up onto his bed, toeing off his shoes carelessly. “Everything alright?”

Jeff inwardly flinched. The text message might have been a bit too serious. “We need to talk” sounded an awful lot like “oh by the way we can’t make out anymore ever.”

“I um… Sorry about that.”

“No, dude, it’s cool. Everything alright?”

 _Oh you know, I’m just desperately in love with you and we make out all the time, including once in front of all our friends, and I’m still sorta confused because up until a week ago I thought you were straight, but no big deal_.

“I just… I wanted to talk about us.”

Nick looked a little nervous. “ _Us_? I gotta be honest, Jeff, you have to give me more to work with. This is starting to sound like a breakup conversation and I really don’t like it.”

Jeff flopped back onto his bed, frustrated with himself. “It’s not. It’s just…Dammit, I’m sorry. But this is _way_ harder than it should be, and I’m not making sense, and just…urrrrgh.” He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.

“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa, calm down, Jeff, it’s okay. It’s just me, remember?”

Jeff pulled his face from his pillow so he could see his best friend. He still looked worried, but also a little amused at Jeff’s antics.

“I’ll tell you what.” Nick fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans and clicked a few keys. “I’ll set a timer. Remember when we used to do this? I’ll give you five minutes to just let everything out, and I can’t say anything until time’s up. And you have to be honest. Okay?”

Jeff sat up and braced himself. “Okay.”

It was a game they’d played when they were younger, one that had often set Jeff on edge (though he’d never admitted it) because there was always the risk of blurting out _oh and by the way I’m in love with you_. It had been a good year or so since they’d done it.

“Alright. Aaaaaand…go.”

Jeff took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. There was little point, after all they’d done, in trying to hide the truth. “I’m in love with you. I have been since we were eleven. And I never told you for a lot of reasons, first because you’ve always been my best friend and I thought friends were supposed to stay _just friends_ , and second because I kinda always thought you were straight. I mean, you had a _girlfriend_ last year. And she was the sweetest girl in the world and super pretty and I totally hated her guts because she got to hug you and kiss you whenever she wanted. But then I finally kissed you last week and it was way better than I ever imagined it could be. I mean it was like in all of those cheesy horrible romantic comedies except better because it was what I wished for every year on my birthday and I always thought you could tell, when I blew out the candles on my birthday cake, that I was staring at you. But it didn’t seem like you did, so I spent the last year trying to convince myself it would never ever happen. And then it did and I still can’t believe it but we never talked about what it means. I can’t just be your friend anymore. Not now when I know what your lips taste like and how much you like when I nibble on your neck and I know the _sounds_ that you make when I do that. Those sounds, by the way, are just fucking _unfair_ and they make my head all cloudy and dizzy and I can’t think of anything else but how to get you to make them again. But you keep going on like everything’s the same, and it’s not and it never will be. Because for the last week I’ve gotten to kiss you whenever you want me to and I don’t think I can ever go back to not doing it.” He realized his chest felt tight and he took a deep breath. He was blushing like mad, and there were tears in his eyes—when the hell did that happen? “That’s all I’ve got,” he finished lamely, letting his shoulders droop. “So you can talk now.”

Nick just blinked at him, his eyes huge with shock. “I don’t even… Holy shit, Jeff. I don’t even know where to _begin_.”

Jeff groaned in embarrassment and rolled into his pillow again, feeling like he could cry. He’d gone too far. He knew he would. He wanted to build a rocket and go to Mars and live there forever to escape the shame.

“Jeff?”

He didn’t respond, just punched his pillow.

“Jeff. Sit up. It’s my turn, I need you to listen to me.” He still didn’t respond, so Nick repeated himself, “ _Please_ , Jeff.” That time, his voice had a note of pleading that he couldn’t ignore, so he sat up, looking adamantly at his folded hands.

“Jeff, look at me.” He used the same quiet tone he had the night they first kissed, and he couldn’t resist it. He looked up and met Nick’s eyes. They were soft and sparkling, and he had the slightest of fond grins. “Okay, my turn now, right? I’m sorry I panicked, it was just a lot to take in. You okay?”

Jeff nodded, so he continued. “Okay, I’ll just… First, since we were _eleven_? Why in the _hell_ didn’t you tell me sooner? God, Jeff, you’ll all I’ve wanted since I don’t even know how long ago. If not that long, at least pretty damn close to it. And second, for what feels like the eight millionth time and I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation, Lexie is a _friend_. We hung out a few times and yeah, for about three and a half seconds I thought dating her would help me move on from my ridiculous unrequited crush on you, because maybe if I was attracted to a girl I wouldn’t be so damn attached to you. But it didn’t work. I finally realized that even if I was attracted to girls _and_ guys it wouldn’t matter much because I was only in love with one person. And that, ever since I could figure out what love was, has been you and only you. And kissing you that first time was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, because you’ve always been there for me and I can’t imagine my life without you, and kissing you meant that I could tell you how I felt and things wouldn’t be weird. And I’m sorry I never told you, both about me being bi and about loving you. But I didn’t know you felt that way, so I was worried that if I told you and you didn’t like me back, things would be weird and that would absolutely _suck_. So I guess we kinda worried about the same thing.”

“Okay. Wow. Um, can we actually, like, _talk_ now? Still being honest?”

“Of course, Jeff, that’s sorta what I was hoping for.”

“Okay. Because I just want to know what we _are_. I think we’ve left being best friends behind.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “We have. We’re in uncharted territory here.”

Jeff couldn’t help but smile at Nick’s little joke. “I don’t think we’re the first best friends that ever got crushes on each other, Nick.”

“No, but I mean… uncharted for _us_. Let’s face it, you’ve been there for every major milestone in my life. But always just as my friend. And like you said, we’re beyond that now.”

“Yeah… Wow, I didn’t think of it that way.” Jeff fidgeted a little. “It’s kinda scary. And kinda cool at the same time. Like this could be completely amazing or go off the rails in a terrible way.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah, I know how you feel. So I guess I’ll just ask you. What do you want us to be?”

Jeff took a deep breath. Going for it seemed to be working well so far. “I want us to be boyfriends.”

Nick took a second to let it sink in, then nodded. “That sounds awesome.”

For the second time in only a few minutes, Jeff was struck speechless. “Wait… Seriously, that’s it? You’re totally cool with it?”

Nick smiled. “No, Jeff, I’ve been lying to you this whole time. _Yes_ , I’m okay with it. That’s exactly what I want, too.”

“Oh. I thought this was supposed to be, like, really difficult or awkward.”

Nick shrugged. “How long have we known each other? We got over awkward a long time ago.”

Jeff smiled back, then got up and crossed the room to plant a kiss on his best-friend-turned-boyfriend’s lips. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Hi, boyfriend.”

Nick laughed softly. “Hi, boyfriend.”


	12. Chapter 12

**No warnings for this chapter.**

 

**110**

Sebastian and Blaine didn’t speak again until Friday afternoon. It had been a strange week. In one way, it seemed to fly by in a blur of classes and marathon dance rehearsals with New Directions as they put the finishing touches on their Sectionals set. On the other hand, every time he checked his phone—and he checked his phone a lot—and there wasn’t a text from Sebastian, that one moment seemed to drag out in a long, disappointed wave.

So when he picked up his phone at the end of rehearsal on Friday (Tina had taken it and stuffed it in his bag with a scolding look) and saw that finally, _finally_ there was a message, he couldn’t wait to get out to his car so he could read it.

What he found was disappointing.

 **Sebastian** : I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to cancel tomorrow. Cassie is really sick, so Sophie and I volunteered to take Katie for the weekend so she can rest.

 **Sebastian** : Rain check? I’ll understand if you’re too busy, though.

He sighed and leaned his head back. He didn’t expect to feel as disappointed as he did. He worried his lower lip with his teeth as he typed a reply, trying to sound more casual than he felt.

 **Blaine** : I understand. Family comes first!

 **Sebastian** : Sorry to cancel on you so late. But yeah, babysitting duty calls.

Blaine smiled a little at the idea of Sebastian babysitting, chasing the chubby blonde toddler around his house.

 **Blaine** : But are you sure having YOU as a babysitter is the best idea?

 **Sebastian** : I’m awesome with this kid. And I figure if I haven’t broken her by now, I’m not going to.

 **Sebastian** : But look, I gotta go. Sophie went to go get her, and for reasons unknown to me, I’ve been assigned to toddler-proof the house.

 **Sebastian** : Wish me luck.

 **Blaine** : Good luck!

 **Sebastian** : We’ve got to keep her until Sunday so that ruins my whole weekend, but are you free Monday afternoon or evening?

 **Sebastian** : For photos I mean.

 **Sebastian** : You could come by campus.

 **Blaine** : I’m not sure. Rehearsals are running pretty late.

 **Sebastian** : Oh yeah, forgot. Well if it doesn’t work it doesn’t work.

 **Sebastian** : I gotta go. Expect embarrassing texts from Sophie.

 **Blaine** : I promise not to share them with all of the Warblers.

 **Sebastian** : I’m pretty sure she’s got that covered. See you.

 

~~~~

 

**111**

Between classes, homework, rehearsals, and everything else, Trent and Dave hadn’t been able to spend a minute alone since Saturday, so it was a little surprising for Dave to open his dorm room door on Friday evening to find Trent sitting on his bed.

He stopped in the door, confused, then stepped back to check that he did, in fact, have the right room. He heard Trent laugh.

“Hey. Sorry. You’re in the right room, I just snuck in.”

Dave smiled as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Do I want to know how?”

“A spy never reveals his secrets, Dave.”

Dave laughed and threw his jacket over his desk chair. “I thought that was magicians.”

Trent waved a hand at him. “Details. Hi, by the way.”

“Hi.” He sat down on the bed next to the other boy, suddenly very glad that Sebastian was gone for the weekend. “So what prompted you to sneak into my room on a Friday evening?”

“It’s not enough that I wanted to see you?” He widened his eyes, faking innocence, but it just made them both laugh again.

“If you just wanted to see me you would have texted. Breaking and entering suggests something more serious is going on.”

Trent shifted uncomfortably, the cutest flush spreading across his cheeks. “I can go if this is weird.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Sit down.” He waited until Trent had settled back down before continuing. “So you know I’m not really good at all this, so if there’s something on your mind, I really need you to tell me. Because I’ll never figure it out on my own. I’m kinda hopeless.”

The other boy sighed. He was still fidgeting, and his cheeks were bright pink. Dave resisted the urge to kiss him. He obviously had something important to talk about. Listening was important. Kissing could happen later.

“I just… I feel really stupid now. But I mean we haven’t hung out since Saturday, and I know that we’re both busy but after everything that happened last weekend, I don’t know. I guess I got all up in my own head and started worrying, you know, that you’d changed your mind.”

Dave was stunned. He knew they hadn’t been able to find time to hang out one on one, but it wasn’t for lack of trying—they just couldn’t make it work with all they had to do. And yeah, it was just about the most inconvenient timing ever, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Right?

“Changed my mind? You mean about you?” He shook his head as if that would make everything make sense again. “I can’t even…Why would you even think that? I mean I know we haven’t gotten a chance to hang out, and that sucks, but it doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

Trent groaned. “I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. We should probably talk about this. I mean, like I said, I’m completely hopeless. If you hadn’t, you know, broken into my room I probably wouldn’t have figured it out on my own.”

That got Trent to laugh, which set Dave more at ease. If Trent was laughing (as opposed to crying, worrying, or trying to leave without saying anything), Dave was on solid ground. He knew how to handle it.

“You probably wouldn’t,” Trent agreed.

“Okay, we agree on one thing already. See, this talking thing isn’t hard at all.”

Trent snorted and reached over to playfully punch his shoulder. “Don’t push it.”

Dave laughed and threw his arms dramatically around Trent’s shoulders. The other boy squirmed and tried to fight back, but only succeeded in tipping the two of them over onto their sides. They lay there for a moment, Trent giggling and trying to catch his breath, before their eyes met.

It was one of those moments out of a movie, where two people exchange a look that stops them both in their tracks before they are drawn in, irresistibly, for a meaningful kiss. And that was exactly what happened. Everything seemed to slow down as Trent’s eyes fluttered closed and he leaned in so their breath mingled together and they kissed, softly.

They took their time pulling away, and when they did and Dave opened his eyes again, Trent was looking at him with the sweetest soft smile. He’d never dreamed he’d earn a look like that from someone else—especially not someone he liked as much as he liked Trent. It felt amazing.

The other boy was blushing again, deeper this time. “Sorry,” he whispered, biting his lip in such a way that Dave had to fight the urge to kiss him again. “I just really like doing that.”

Dave’s heart did a little extra _thump_ like it was dancing. “Don’t apologize. I like it too.”

“Awesome.” Trent shifted a little so they faced each other more directly. “So does that mean we get to keep doing this?”

“What, break into each other’s rooms?”

That earned him another punch on the shoulder. “No, stupid. _This_. Whatever this…” Trent waved a hand to encompass the two of them, lying on the bed face to face, “turns out to be.”

Dave had an involuntary flashback to Valentine’s Day. To sitting across the table from Kurt, pouring his heart out. Holding his hand. And getting gently but firmly shot down. It made his stomach drop.

Trent must have noticed, because the smile faded from his face. “Did I say something wrong?”

Dave ran a hand over his face. “No. I’m sorry. It’s just… The last time I had this kind of conversation, it went terribly wrong.”

“What, did you get rejected?”

Dave flinched. “Yeah. Publicly, too.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

When he looked up, Trent was smiling again, fighting to repress a giggle.

“What?”

“Sorry.” Trent bit his lip and tried to force himself to stop smiling. It didn’t work. “I’m not laughing at your heartbreak or anything. I was just thinking, his loss. I win.”

Dave smiled and laid the sarcasm on thick. He couldn’t help but play along with Trent’s banter. It was surprisingly easy. “Leave it to you to look on the bright side of my terrible public rejection.”

“Guess I’m just an optimist. So who was it?”

Dave groaned. “I’m never, _ever_ going to answer that question.”

Trent’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, was it someone I know?” When Dave groaned again and covered his face with his hands, he burst out laughing. “Oh my _god_ it totally was! You have to tell me now. Tell me tell me tell me!” He turned and tried to tickle Dave, who, caught off guard, thrashed and nearly knocked himself off the bed. They ended up wrapped in each other’s arms again, breathless and laughing together. When they kissed again, it was warm and comforting and _new_ , and they both smiled into it. And Dave felt, for the first time, like he didn’t need to worry. They would figure this out—whatever it turned out to be—together, at their own pace.

 

~~~~

**112**

Friday night, Blaine found himself with nothing to do, which usually meant an hour or so of idly surfing facebook before curling up in bed with a movie. However, just before he was ready to sign off and get in his pajamas, a post from Sophie caught his eye.

“I am exhausted and there’s watercolor paint all over my tights, but so far, the Great Babysitting Weekend is a success. By that I mean no one’s dead yet. So yay for that!”

Immediately underneath the post, Sophie had put up a photo. When he pulled it up, he saw that it was a picture of Sebastian sprawled across a couch, asleep. Katie, in a ruffled red dress with bows in her hair, was curled up on his chest, also sleeping. The caption read, “After a long afternoon he tried to put on Finding Nemo to get her to sleep. Mission success.”

Seven Warblers had already “liked” it, so Blaine felt alright clicking the like button, too. Less than a minute later, his phone buzzed with a text message.

 **Sophie** : Hahaha he’s going to kill me for sending you this picture!

Attached was a photo of Sebastian lying on the floor with Katie sitting on his back. They were constructing a tower of blocks and Sebastian was handing one to Katie, trying to look up at her as she reached out with a chubby hand. Blaine couldn’t help but smile as he wondered at the number of vulnerable moments he’d witnessed in the last few weeks. It was like seeing a whole new person.

 **Blaine** : Okay you can never EVER tell him I said this.

 **Sophie** : My lips are sealed.

 **Blaine** : I think you may have just killed me.

 **Sophie** : Hahaha I win!

 **Blaine** : Also, I’m on to you.

 **Sophie** : I have no idea what you’re talking about.

 **Blaine** : Oh come on. You keep sending me ridiculously adorable pictures of Sebastian, getting us closer when we’re together

 **Sophie** : Again I have no idea what you’re talking about

 **Sophie** : I’m totally sneaky and subtle, I would never go for something as obvious as heart-melting pictures of my brother being cute

 **Blaine** : Yes spilling his secrets to me is SUCH a ninja move

 **Sophie** : Damn straight

 **Sophie** : Is it working?

 **Sophie** : Don’t have an answer, do you?

 **Sophie** : Mwahaha I am the ninja of love

 

~~~~

 

**113**

**Sebastian** : Lesson one: Toddler-proof the house BEFORE said toddler arrives.

 **Sebastian** : Lesson two: No matter how well you think you did, you didn’t.

 **Blaine** : Haha, having a good weekend?

 **Sebastian** : Oh yes, having a two year old tearing around my house and climbing furniture is a blast.

 **Blaine** : Hey hey hey, you were telling me just the other day how awesome of a babysitter you are.

 **Sebastian** : And I am. But this child seems hell-bent on getting herself injured and me in trouble.

 **Blaine** : Aww, that means she likes you. But seriously, how is the weekend going?

 **Sebastian** : All seriousness? Pretty well, but I’m already exhausted.

 **Sebastian** : Sophie decided to take her to the park for the afternoon though, so I get some time off.

 **Blaine** : Very nice. Anything exciting going on?

 **Sebastian** : Well I was going to ask if you maybe wanted to come over and do those photos?

 **Sebastian** : I planned a spot on campus, but there’s a few places here that are kind of like what I had in mind.

 **Blaine** : At your house?

 **Sebastian** : Yeah. Unless that’s a problem.

 **Sebastian** : Though I hope you’d figured out by now I won’t bite.

 **Sebastian** : Unless you ask.

 **Blaine** : No it’s not that I mean I just figured you’d be busy all weekend.

 **Sebastian** : So did I. So yeah I mean this is last minute but if you wanted to come over, I’d really like to use you for this assignment.

 **Blaine** : Okay um give me a little while? It’s been Sweatpants Saturday up until now.

 **Sebastian** : No problem, I’m free until four-ish.

 **Blaine** : Cool I’ll text you when I’m leaving.

 **Sebastian** : Sounds good. See you soon.

 

~~~~

 

**114**

It took him nearly half an hour just to pick out what shirt to wear, and another fifteen minutes to convince himself to get in the car.

The entire time, one little thing Sebastian had said kept running through his brain. _I’d really like to use you for this assignment_.

Blaine didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It was just an off the cuff remark. Of _course_ Sebastian wanted to take his picture—he’d _asked_ him, hadn’t he? It didn’t necessarily mean anything more than that. It certainly didn’t mean that that was _all_ Sebastian wanted to see him for.

Then there was the whole fact that Blaine was _worried_ that Sebastian didn’t want to see him for any other reason. Where the hell had that come from? He still hadn’t figured out if he liked Sebastian… _that_ way. It was too soon after his breakup with Kurt. Wasn’t it?

With what felt like two dozen conflicting feelings buzzing just under his skin, Blaine finally—an hour after he finished the conversation—pulled his car into Sebastian’s driveway. And if he hadn’t felt nervous before, the intimidating house looming above him certainly did the trick. While Blaine lived in a really nice house, the Smythe residence was _huge_. He always knew Sebastian came from money—it was obvious, and he didn’t exactly try to hide it—but to have the evidence right there in his face made him uncomfortable. They came from completely different worlds, even though they lived less than half an hour away.

He dragged his feet as he walked up to the front door and fidgeted on the steps after he rang the bell (hearing the echo of a pretentious church bell style-ring). To try to repress his nerves, he pulled his phone from his pocket. He didn’t really want to text anyone—he just needed something for his hands to do.

He was so focused on his phone screen that he didn’t hear footsteps approaching, so he jumped a little when the door opened right in front of him. And then there was Sebastian, leaning on the doorframe, smiling down at him with that big, lopsided, real smile that he had only seen a few times before.

Sebastian’s smile once again had that weird effect it had on him Monday night—his mind raced, screaming _say something say something_ while his voice scooted off and disappeared. As a result, he did what he frequently did around Sebastian—he stood there like an idiot, mouth open in a surprised half-smile.

“So, hi,” Sebastian began, stepping back a little to gesture him in. “Come on in.”

It took just a little too long to get his feet moving, and when he did he gravitated just past Sebastian’s outstretched arm. He caught the other boy giving him an odd look out of the corner of his eye, but as soon as the front door was closed behind him, Sebastian seemed to have brushed it off. “Forewarning: it’s a huge mess. I suck at cleaning under normal circumstances, and chasing after a speed demon toddler hasn’t helped matters much.”

As they walked through the entryway and past the open arch that led to the living room, Blaine saw that what Sebastian said was true: the house was incredible, lavish verging on overdone. On the other hand, Sebastian had to kick a few toy cars out of the way to avoid tripping on them. (“I swear, Katie is the only two year old girl I've ever met who loves trucks so much.”)

The hallway turned out to lead to the kitchen, which was enormous, with an open floor plan and huge windows that let the early-afternoon sunlight pour in. He noticed, though, that there were very few signs of it ever being used except for the small table in the far corner, which was covered in dirty breakfast dishes. (There were also several phone books piled on one of the chairs, he assumed in lieu of a booster seat for Katie.)

“So yeah, the room I was planning on using was…” Sebastian suddenly stopped, looking confused. He turned one way, paused, then went the other. “This way,” he concluded, grinning a little at himself.

Blaine couldn’t help but smile too. “Lost in your own house?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, still grinning. “I’m never here. Don’t judge me. It’s this way…I think.”

They went out of the kitchen and down another hallway. Sebastian counted off the rooms them by tapping a finger on the doorknobs as they passed them, an unconscious gesture that made Blaine smile even wider, until they stopped in front of the last door on the right.

“In here. This is my dad’s library. I don’t think anyone’s been in here for years except me, though.”

The room they went into was dark, with heavy wood paneling and the kind of substantial furniture that was too uncomfortable to ever wear out. Bookcases lined three of the walls, while the fourth was covered by floor-to-ceiling curtains, which were closed against the sunlight.

Blaine stopped in the middle of the room, almost afraid to touch anything, while Sebastian strode over to one of the windows and threw the curtains open, flooding the room with light. The window started at hip height and went right up to the ceiling, facing the back yard and the early afternoon sun. It was set out from the wall and contained a window seat, just deep enough for one person to sit in.

Sebastian gave Blaine a big, nostalgic smile, his skin and hair highlighted all in golden light, then turned back to face out the window. “I used to hide in this seat when I was a kid. No one else ever came in here but me and Sophie, and when we were really young we’d both cram in here and close the curtains and read books for hours…”

His voice drifted off for a second as he looked out, and Blaine took the opportunity to stare. For a short moment, there was no pretention, no false confidence, just an open heart. It was only a few seconds, but the incredible vulnerability Sebastian displayed melted Blaine’s last doubts.

He finally allowed himself to admit that he wanted Sebastian. He wanted to know him, to spend time with him, to laugh and share secrets and tell crazy stories and all the small, intimate things that people did when they cared, deeply, about each other.

When Sebastian turned back to him, he knew he was blushing and staring with undisguised _want_. For a split second, Sebastian looked stunned, then his lips slowly turned up into a surprised but pleased smile.

The air between them charged with the intensity of their gaze, and he felt something in his chest pulling toward the other boy. He wouldn’t have been surprised, in that intense and warm moment, if he’d actually leaned forward on his toes like he was drifting closer.

He didn’t, though, because Sebastian, grinning like the cat that got the canary, turned back to the window. “So the idea I had was to have you in the window seat.” He tossed a wink over his shoulder. “You can keep your clothes on.”

 

~~~~

 

**115**

It was awkward, at first, especially with what had just passed between them, but Sebastian talked right over it. He gave Blaine a quick overview of how he wanted the photo to look—Blaine sitting in the window, very casual, lots of sunlight—and got right to work getting his camera ready.

“So you never told me,” Blaine began as he shifted, trying to get into a comfortable position, “how the self-portrait assignment turned out.”

Sebastian glanced up from where he’d been adjusting the lens, trying to get the settings right for the brilliant sunlight. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, nothing special.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and laid the sarcasm on heavy. “Really? Nothing special? The chance to photograph yourself in all your sexy glory?”

That earned a grin and a surprised laugh from Sebastian, who straightened up from where he’d been hunched over the camera. “I know, right? One would think I’d love it.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Sebastian shrugged. “It was weird, to be honest. I know I’m a complete attention whore and all, but… I guess I like hiding behind the camera sometimes. Takes the pressure off of me for a minute, you know?”

Blaine nodded. “I get that.”

“Sure you do, mister lead soloist for two show choirs. You ready?”

Blaine felt a little tense, but tried to focus on not getting too ‘posed.’ “I guess so.”

“Good. Stay where you are.”

Sebastian stepped a little closer, standing off to the side of the window and out of the sunlight, and raised the camera. “Look over at me, just a little.”

Blaine tried, but immediately started laughing. “I’m sorry. This is weird.”

“Don’t focus on the camera.”

Blaine tried to level a glare at him, but just ended up giggling again. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“Talk to me about something. That usually helps.”

Blaine was still smiling. It was surprisingly easy, all of a sudden, to smile at Sebastian. “Talk about what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Something you love.”

That caught him off guard, like Sebastian always did. He sat for a split second, running the word “love” over and over in his brain.

“I really love music.”

Sebastian smirked, leaning against the window frame, camera held loosely at his side. “I’m shocked,” he responded sarcastically.

“Oh stop. Do you want me to stay here and help you or not?”

Sebastian’s smirk widened. “Okay, fine. Tell me about how much you love music, then.”

So Blaine talked. Hesitantly, at first, he talked about his love of performing, of how easy it was to connect with another person or a whole room through a single song, even though that same song meant different things to everybody. After a few minutes of chatting, they were so deeply engrossed in the conversation that Blaine didn’t even notice when Sebastian began taking pictures. He moved around and kept up the conversation so seamlessly that the camera was no longer a barrier between them—it simply ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, talking.

He only faltered when Sebastian sat down at the end of the window seat just next to his knee. He tried not to think that it meant anything—Sebastian was still snapping pictures occasionally, so it was probably just another angle that he was trying out—but their sudden proximity in the too-small space made something warm rise up in his chest and he knew he was blushing.

Sebastian must have felt it, too, because he lowered the camera and stopped talking. For a long moment he just sat there, eyes intently fixed on Blaine’s mouth as he stumbled over one last sentence.

Then there was no more to say, and Sebastian leaned in, slowly, pausing once to give Blaine a chance to tell him to stop.

And finally, they kissed.

 

~~~~

 

**116**

He didn’t know what he expected from his first kiss with Sebastian. The few times he’d allowed himself to imagine it, it had always come unexpected, a spur of the moment passion that neither of them could resist. He’d pictured Sebastian grabbing him, pulling him in. He’d imagined kissing him greedily, desperate and craving more, always more.

This was different. This was slow and sweet and easy, the press of warm lips that slowly opened to allow Sebastian’s tongue to flick cautiously in. Sebastian’s hand was gentle as he rested it lightly on Blaine’s neck, thumb tracing the contours of his jaw as they moved together.

It was Blaine who reached out first, grabbing a handful of Sebastian’s shirt to pull him closer, wanting to touch as well as taste, to feel his heartbeat like he felt the softness of his lips. Sebastian responded in kind by sliding his hand down and around his waist to rest at the small of his back, his shirt bunching so that Sebastian’s fingers brushed ever so lightly against his skin. It felt like sparks danced their way up his spine, making his breath catch in his chest.

He wanted it. He wanted Sebastian’s hands to wander across his skin, to stroke and leave trails of warmth and to dig in and scratch. He wanted to feel Sebastian’s lips on his neck, the trace of his tongue down his chest, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin.

And he wanted to touch in return: to explore and find the secret spots that Sebastian liked, to kiss and suck and bite and leave marks and make him shiver and moan.

He was arching into Sebastian’s touch, trying to bring them closer together, to let Sebastian know what he wanted, when they both heard the front door slam.

 

~~~~

**117**

The slam of the front door startled them both and they broke away, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and lips swollen and red.

They stared at each other in pure shock. Blaine couldn’t even begin to process what had just happened between them. It was like someone had taken his whole world and given it a solid shake.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but before he could, they heard Sophie yelling down the hall.

“Sebastian? We’re back!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Perfect timing as always,” he mumbled under his breath, before turning to yell, “I’m in the library!”

There was no response from Sophie, just the sound of running footsteps getting louder as someone came down the hall. He still hadn’t come up with anything to say before the door burst open and a two-foot-tall blonde tornado of a toddler came running through full tilt. Sebastian laughed and was barely able to get to his feet before Katie crashed into his legs, nearly knocking him over. He leaned down to pick her up and tossed her into the air in one smooth motion, making her squeal as she dropped back down into his arms.

“Hi, koala bear,” he greeted her, kissing her chubby cheek to make her giggle. His smile quickly turned into a grimace as the toddler grabbed the front of his shirt and climbed up onto his shoulders, pulling his hair on the way up.

“So this is my niece,” he said to Blaine as he turned to introduce them. “Say hi, koala.”

“Hi,” the little girl responded dutifully before shyly hiding her face in Sebastian’s hair, pulling it again, which made him squawk indignantly.

“Ow, Katie, stop it!”

“Sebastian?” Sophie’s voice called from somewhere in the front of the house. “Where are you?”

“The library. Follow the sound of Katie’s voice,” he shouted back as he pulled off one of the little girl’s shoes and tickled her foot, causing her to squeal and kick his shoulders repeatedly.

He heard Sophie’s laughter come closer as she appeared in the door, still wearing a long charcoal gray jacket. She smiled her big, lopsided grin when she saw them. “God, I’d forgotten this room even existed.” Her eyes flicked over the window and landed on Blaine. To her credit, she only looked surprised for a split second, but her cat that got the canary smile was just like Sebastian’s. “Hi, Blaine.”

“Hi, Sophie.” He was suddenly very aware of the fact that, only minutes before, he’d been kissing her brother. They were both probably a little messy from the way they’d been pulling at each other’s clothes, and Sophie, based on the way she kept glancing at him with one eyebrow raised, could _definitely_ tell.

He was mercifully saved by Sebastian, who turned to his sister _just_ as the suspicious expression dropped from her face. “You have fun?”

“Yeah, we met up with Wes and his little brother.” Undeterred, she turned back to Blaine. “I didn’t know you were coming over.” Her voice lifted up with honest delight, with no sarcasm or meanness, like she was genuinely glad to see him. “Do you wanna stay for dinner? I can’t cook but I can promise I won’t _deliberately_ poison you.”

The room suddenly felt far too small and he felt suffocated. There was too much going on—the noise and bustle of the three Smythes combined with the internal storm of his emotions—and he needed to get out of there. Get some fresh air. Clear his head.

“I um… I actually better go. Thanks, though, that’s really nice of you.”

He watched the smiles fade from both their faces. It was a little disconcerting when they mirrored each other so perfectly, _especially_ since he had just been kissing one of them. Most times he might have laughed or made a joke about it, but at that moment it just heightened the tension and confusion he felt and propelled him toward the door.

They made no move to stop him until he was outside. He was just unlocking his car when he heard the front door open again behind him.

“Blaine?”

It was Sophie. Damn her. Damn her and her terrible timing, her constant cheerfulness, her scheming and her infuriating ability to always be one step ahead of him.

He liked Sophie. He really did. She was sweet and gentle even if she was manipulative. Normally, he wouldn’t dare raise his voice to her. Unfortunately, in normal situations he wasn’t fighting what felt like eight hundred conflicting emotions and desperate to get away from a really uncomfortable situation.

He whirled around and snapped at her before he could stop himself. “Dammit, Sophie, can’t you stop meddling for just one second?”

She stopped abruptly at the edge of the driveway, flinching back from his anger. He instantly felt guilty. She wasn’t the cause of his problems, but like in a lot of situations, he took it out on whoever was convenient.

He felt his anger deflate and shoulders drop in contrition. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, and when she spoke, her voice was small and sad.  “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I was just… You seemed really upset, and I wanted to ask if you were okay.”

That made him feel even worse. He started to apologize again, but she held up a hand before he could get a word out.

“Just give me a second and hear me out, okay? I just wanted to ask if you were alright. Because quite frankly, I know my brother, and I know he can be a jackass and that sometimes he hurts the people closest to him. But I also wanted to say that he’s really trying. Ever since we heard about Dave last year, he’s _really_ tried to turn things around. You probably won’t believe this, but up until a couple of years ago he was _nothing_ like the guy you first met, and since you two have started hanging out again, he’s gotten so much better. It’s almost like having my brother back. So I wanted to say that if he’s done something wrong, I mean, as long as it’s not really serious, _please_ try to forgive him. And… _I_ really like having you around, too. So if he’s made you mad, I’ll make him fix it.” She spread both hands as she shrugged, indicating she was done talking. “That’s all. Sorry for holding you up when you’re upset. I hope to see you at Dalton again when Sectionals is over.”

She turned and went back inside before he got a chance to speak. On the drive home, he didn’t even turn on the radio. He wasn’t sure there was a single song to sing along to that would properly reflect his emotions.

 

~~~~

 

**118**

**Wes Montgomery** and **Sophie Smythe** are now in a relationship.

 **Jeff Sterling** and **Nick Duval** are now in a relationship.

 **Kurt Hummel** changed his relationship status to “single.”

Facebook notifications were pretty stupid, when Blaine thought about it. Did it really matter that, for example, Jeff and Nick were designated as “in a relationship” on facebook when everyone knew they were not only dating, but completely head over heels for each other and quite possibly the Warblers’ newest perfect couple? Putting it on facebook didn’t make it any more or less true.

(Wes and Sophie, on the other hand—now _that_ was interesting. He made a mental note to ask Wes about it…if Sebastian hadn’t killed the poor guy for going near his sister.)

Maybe, if he kept convincing himself that facebook relationships didn’t mean anything, it would make the fact that Kurt was only now listed as “single” hurt less. Maybe he could convince his lungs to loosen and his heart to keep beating.

It hurt. It hurt unreasonably, since he knew they were _over_ over and it had to come eventually.

He had never responded to the texts Kurt had sent him the night of the Halloween party. What was he supposed to say? “Gee, I’m sorry too?”

He was genuinely proud of Kurt and the opportunity he was being given to work in Chicago, and he understood why they had to break up. At least, he understood it rationally. All attempts to reason with his feelings thus far had failed. It still stung.

But underneath the hurt and the misery and the denial, something was shifting. He’d known it long before he let Sebastian kiss him. It hurt a little less each day. He was accepting it, and life was moving on.

So with a deep breath, he went to his own profile page.

 **Blaine Anderson** is “in a relationship.”

The sentence stared him in the face for a few seconds. It was different—wrong, somehow—without a second name attached. Like it didn’t belong there.

With another deep breath, he clicked to change it to “single.”

There was no sense of relief, no magical release of tension and sadness…but nor did the world end around him. Really, it made no difference at all.

Feeling a little better, he went back to the main page and couldn’t resist adding his comment to the list of “congrats” and “about damn times” that the Warblers had posted on Nick and Jeff’s new relationship.

“Congrats, you guys! But seriously, took you long enough. :)”

Then he picked up his phone and wrote out a message to Sophie. He still owed her an apology.

“Hey. Sorry again for yelling at you yesterday. But I think I understand what you were trying to tell me. So thanks for looking out for me.”

He sent it, then typed one more.

“Also, you and Wes? Well done.”

 

~~~~

 

**119**

**Sophie** : Tell me you love me.

 **Sebastian** : What did you do now?

 **Sebastian** : I swear to god if you’re causing more trouble we are no longer related.

 **Sophie** : Hush. You owe me so many favors you don’t even know about yet.

 **Sebastian** : Not reassuring.

 **Sophie** : I know you’re busy but I just noticed a certain someone changed his facebook relationship status to “single”

 **Sebastian** : And I care because…?

 **Sophie** : Three guesses. First two don’t count.

 **Sophie** : Hint: I know what happened Saturday, even without you telling me.

 **Sebastian** : Wait

 **Sebastian** : You mean

 **Sebastian** : SERIOUSLY

 **Sophie** : God be more of a thirteen year old girl about it

 **Sebastian** : Shut up

 **Sophie** : But I know, the plot thickens, right?

 **Sebastian** : Things just got very interesting.

 **Sophie** : I can totally picture you doing your “plotting evil” finger drumming

 **Sebastian** : Well I wasn’t until now

 **Sophie** : Be nice to the poor boy

 **Sebastian** : I always am

 **Sophie** : Sorry I laughed so hard I dropped my phone

 **Sophie** : Side note, if you check facebook today, don’t freak out.

 **Sebastian** : What did you do

 **Sophie** : I did nothing

 **Sebastian** : Sophie Elaine Smythe

 **Sophie** : Sebastian Eric Smythe

 **Sophie** : Two can play this game, bitch

 **Sebastian** : What did you do

 **Sophie** : Wes and I sorta made it official.

 **Sophie** : Don’t hurt him.

 **Sophie** : Sebastian?

 **Sophie** : Goddammit.


	13. Chapter 13

**120**

Blaine supposed he probably should have told everyone in New Directions that he and Kurt had broken up _before_ changing his facebook status, but hindsight _was_ 20/20 and all that.

All things considered, they handled it really well. Rachel freaked out on facebook, of course, but most people didn’t mention it. When he walked into rehearsal the day after the change, a few people gave him sympathetic looks, and Sam, who already knew, leaned down to pat his shoulder.

During rehearsal, as he sat in the back watching the new kids run through their small group number, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Since no one was watching him, he checked it, and was surprised to find a text from Tina, who was sitting on the other side of the room.

“Stay and talk after? Or maybe dinner? XOXO”

He looked over at her to see if he could catch her eye, but she was watching the front of the room, so he just texted her back. He laid it on thick in hopes of sounding happier than he really felt. Hopefully she didn’t know about his secret trips to Dalton… He really didn’t know what he would say if she so much as mentioned the name Sebastian.

“Oh my god. Can I take you on a super romantic date to Breadstix? Please say yes. XOXO”

He went back to pretending to watch the freshmen and sophomores (since when had Artie approved them covering One Direction?) until he heard Tina’s sudden, stifled giggle across the room. He smiled, hiding it behind his hand in hopes that Mr. Scheuster wouldn’t notice. He didn’t, and a moment later his phone vibrated again.

“Does this mean we’re going steady? You’re driving.”

Before he got a chance to send another snarky comment back, the song had wrapped up and Mr. Scheuster was organizing the whole club to run through the set list. Blaine and Tina were dancing together and barely managed to keep from bursting out laughing for the entire run-through. Thankfully Artie was too busy trying to teach one of the freshmen (Alex? Andy? One of those kinds of names) the dance steps for what was probably the tenth time. He was a sweet kid (whatever his name was) but an utterly hopeless dancer.

They finally wrapped up a little before five p.m. and he and Tina walked out to the parking lot arm in arm, giggling over the set list and the choreography and Adam’s (that was his name) good-natured bumbling. Tina kept comparing him to Finn when he first joined, though Blaine hadn’t been around for it and couldn’t agree or disagree.

By the time they sat down in a corner booth at Breadstix, though, she had gotten more serious.

“So… I saw it on facebook,” she finally began after the waitress brought their dinner. “How are you doing?”

He shrugged, trying not to worry her. “I’m alright. Sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

She paused what she was doing, fork mid-way to her mouth. “Was it that long ago? I thought you just changed it yesterday?”

Oh god. She didn’t know. He’d forgotten he hadn’t told anyone. “Yeah… I’m really sorry I kept it from you. It was about three weeks ago, now.”

She dropped her fork in surprise. “Three _weeks_? And you never told us?”

He fidgeted uncomfortably under the intensity of her voice. “Yeah… Sorry.”

She reached across the table and took his hands, her voice softening. “No, sweetie, _I’m_ sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t notice before. That was why you were so unhappy, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

She squeeze his hands, once, and when he smiled up at her she released him and sat back. “So… What happened? I thought everything was fine.”

He shrugged again. It still stung and his chest felt tight, but there was no way he was going to cry in front of her. She’d worry too much. “We hadn’t been spending a lot of time together. And then he got this amazing job offer in Chicago, so he decided that he was going to take it and move there right after the show he’s working on now closes. So it just… It didn’t make sense for us to try to stay together.”

“That’s too bad. I thought things got better over the summer, you know, after everything last year.”

The memory of their arguments the previous year—over Sebastian, mostly, but also over Chandler—made it hurt worse, but he kept his voice level. “It did. It’s not like we had a big fight or anything. We just… grew apart, I guess. Things like that happen.”

“Well, I’m glad for that, at least. Though I remember you mentioning that you’re still talking to some of the Warblers? Better not let that Sebastian guy find out. I can only imagine the trouble he’d cause.”

He had to stop himself from coming to Sebastian’s defense. Tina didn’t know. Tina _couldn’t_ know. Trying to explain it all to her now—that he’d not only been hanging out at Dalton and practicing with the Warblers, but going out on what seemed suspiciously like dates with Sebastian—would only lead to a _lot_ of trouble. She’d be furious with him, and he couldn’t handle that. Not when every other part of his life was such a mess. He needed his friend.

So he gritted his teeth and forced a chuckle. “I know, right? I swore them to secrecy.”

She smiled back. “Probably a good thing.”

He made himself smile, silently apologizing to her for being such a liar. Someday…not _soon_ , of course, but eventually…he would tell her the whole truth.

Maybe.

 

~~~~

 

**121**

**Wes:** Sebastian says hi.

**Sophie** : Oh god. Let me begin my three part apology by saying I asked him not to freak out.

 **Wes:** Stop it.

 **Sophie** : Was he mad?

 **Sophie** : I’m really sorry I know he gets super over-protective and can be really mean.

 **Wes:** Sophie, seriously, don’t apologize. It’s okay.

 **Wes:** He was actually very calm.

 **Sophie** : Oh god that’s worse. It means he’s plotting your death.

 **Wes:** No it’s really okay. I mean he came over, I guess you had just finished telling him

 **Wes:** And he basically sat me down and gave me a ten minute speech about how you are an incredible person and that I’m the only guy he’s going to allow to get anywhere near you, and I better not mess it up and hurt you because he WILL kill me.

 **Wes:** Though to be totally honest I don’t think his heart was in it for the last part.

 **Sophie** : Um…Wow. That’s not what I expected.

 **Wes:** Me either.

 **Sophie** : Did he give you a chance to get a word in?

 **Wes:** Yeah. I told him the truth—that I’m super awkward and kind of an idiot sometimes but that I’d do my best because, well, I’m sort of completely in love with you.

 **Sophie** : You’re so sappy.

 **Wes:** You like it, don’t lie.

 **Sophie** : You really need to tone it down. Between you and Nick and Jeff, I’m sure Dalton is just overflowing with cute lovey-dovey bullshit.

 **Wes** : God them and Trent and Dave

 **Sophie** : Wait

 **Sophie** : How do you know about that?

 **Wes** : I may be sort of clueless sometimes but I’m not completely stupid. Also, it’s Trent. Has he ever been able to keep a secret?

 **Sophie** : This is true.

 **Wes** : I’m not sure anyone else knows, so I’m keeping it to myself.

 **Sophie** : God rehearsal this week is going to be fun.

 **Wes** : Thursday?

 **Sophie** : Tuesday and Thursday. Gotta go and get my dance class started, so hugs and kisses until then.

 **Wes** : Now who’s the sappy one?

 **Sophie** : Hush.

 

~~~~

 

**122**

It was around the time that the smoke alarms started going off that Jeff finally accepted he was in _way_ over his head.

He’d been planning it for over a week down to the very last detail, since he knew if he tried to wing it, he’d fuck something up terribly. Of course, all that obsessive planning had not helped one bit when he turned away from the oven for _just one minute_ and smoke started pouring out. And it had all been going so _well_ up until that point.

It was supposed to be a surprise: since he and Nick were still new to the whole “dating” thing, he thought he’d surprise his best-friend-turned-boyfriend with a real, honest to goodness date night. He was going to cook them dinner, complete with dessert, in one of the dorm’s (underused and therefore always empty) kitchens, then they would go back to their room for a movie. He’d recruited Trent, his only friend who could cook (besides Nick, but that would ruin the surprise) to help him plan the meal and drive him to the grocery store. He even got Wes and Thad to agree to keep Nick distracted until everything was ready.

And then he looked away from the cookies for _one single minute_ and everything was going to hell.

Completely panicked, he pulled the tray out of the oven and dumped it in the sink, hoping that running water over the burned cookies would at least stop the smoke. It didn’t. The alarm kept blaring, echoing crazily along the walls of the tiny kitchen, making his ears ring, and the light flashing next to the door just made it all worse.

Finally, he resigned himself to defeat, turned off the oven and the burners on the stove, and trudged outside with the rest of the dorm. He was going to be in a _lot_ of trouble.

Once he got out to the parking lot, he saw a few of the other Warblers already grouped together and headed their way. Maybe half of them had managed to throw on jackets or sweatshirts; the other half stood shivering in the early evening chill.

He made eye contact with Trent as he approached and was surprised to see his usually put-together friend had messy hair and the top few buttons of his shirt were done wrong. He wondered why for a second until he caught a glance at Dave, who was standing next to him. He looked a little flustered and almost guilty… which explained why Trent looked _pissed_. Oh. So he had been right the night of the Halloween party. Imagine that.

Trent crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Jeff as he walked up. “I know this is your fault.”

Jeff shrank into his hoodie a little, hoping he didn’t smell too much like burned cookies. “Sorry.”

Trent rolled his eyes, but the expression on his face thawed and he patted Jeff on the back. He could never stay mad at anyone for long—a trait Jeff occasionally exploited. “What did you do now?”

“I swear I only looked away from the oven for like a _minute_. But I was trying to get the pasta ready and suddenly the cookies were burning and…I guess I sorta panicked and opened the oven and there was smoke all over.”

Dave smirked, but was cut off when Trent elbowed him before turning back to Jeff. “This is why I always tell you not to multitask, honey,” he insisted fondly, rubbing a comforting circle on Jeff’s back.

“I know.” He felt awful. He wanted to do something special for Nick, to show him how much their years of friendship and, now, new relationship meant to him. Instead he’d gone and made a huge mess. “I just don’t know what I’m gonna tell Nick.”

“Tell me what?”

Trent laughed. “Dude, high five just for the timing.”

Nick laughed too and high fived him, then turned back to Jeff, who was staring at his feet willing himself to disappear. “So what happened? Don’t tell me you’re the one who set off the alarm.”

Jeff bit his lip. “Maybe.”

“Oh no. What did you do?”

He tried to shrug casually, but betrayed himself by shuffling uncomfortably. God, this was terrible. He knew his face was burning with embarrassment. “I was trying to make dinner. I wanted to surprise you.”

When he looked up through his eyelashes, he saw that Nick’s mouth had dropped open from shock, but when he saw Jeff was looking, his expression quickly softened into one of genuine fondness (and just a little exasperation). “Oh, Jeff, that’s…really sweet, actually. Is that why Wes and Thad were suddenly so interested in dragging me around campus?” He turned to direct the question at his two friends, who had walked up behind him. They both nodded.

“Yeah. I wanted us to have, you know, a proper date.”

“Oh my god. Jeff, c’mere.”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Nick stepped in to close the space between them and wrap his arms around Jeff’s waist, leaning his head on his shoulder. It was amazing, really, how a simple hug could make him feel so much better. Sure he’d ruined his surprise (and would probably be in trouble…this was not the first time), but that hardly mattered when just _trying_ had made Nick so happy.

A sudden shiver ran through Nick’s body, shaking them both. He laughed. “Though, next time, could you give us some warning? I didn’t have time to grab a jacket. I’m _freezing_.”

Jeff laughed and unzipped his hoodie, then wrapped it around the both of them, holding Nick close to try to warm him up. Next to them, Trent let out a huff and stuck his tongue out at them.

“Could you two be _any_ more disgusting?”

Jeff laughed and looked over at Trent, who had drifted closer to Dave (but was trying to pretend he hadn’t). “And could _you_ two be any more obvious?”

Dave turned away quickly so no one could see him trying not to laugh, and Trent just looked angry again. “Shut up, Jeff.”

Nick looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, but Jeff just shook his head. “Fire trucks are here.”

Nick laughed. “Five bucks says they come looking for you by name.”

“Oh stop.”

 

~~~~

 

**123**

Having a Wednesday off from rehearsal with only a couple weeks before Sectionals sounded like a treat until Blaine realized that it meant Artie would be even more crazy intense for the rest of the week to make up for it. Then, it seemed less like a mini vacation and more like an extended waiting period, akin to a very long wait in a dentist’s waiting room.

Okay, he was being a _little_ overdramatic, but that didn’t mean rehearsals Thursday and Friday weren’t going to suck.

He asked Tina if she wanted to hang out, but she had to run some errands with her parents. His next thought was Sam, but he was staying after school with Artie anyway to help the new kids with their small group number. They were getting better but still had a ways to go and, with Sectionals suddenly less than two weeks away, not a lot of time, so Artie had roped them all into a couple intense rehearsals.

With nothing to do (except some math homework, which he was definitely going to put off until later) and none of his closest McKinley friends available, Blaine made the impulse decision to head up to Dalton. Maybe he’d surprise the Warblers at their rehearsal.

It wasn’t just that he wanted to see Sebastian. Hanging out with his old friends was definitely one of the high points of his week, where he didn’t have to worry about leading a group or nailing his solo. He could just dance and chat and goof around as long as he didn’t get in the way. (Not that anyone really minded if he did. Trent would just pick him up and move him to the side if he messed up too badly.) Plus, he wanted to check up on the relationship between Nick and Jeff. They’d been two of his closest friends when he was there, and to have the two of them _finally_ get together was a development he couldn’t miss.

And okay, yes, seeing Sebastian would be nice. But really, that wasn’t why he was going over there. Not at all.

He strode through Dalton’s campus with purpose, already feeling his pace quicken as he got closer to the rehearsal room. It was amazing how different he felt from walking into New Directions rehearsal, especially the last few weeks—he could always feel himself shrinking from the pressure they always put on him to lead, to shine, to be so freaking _perfect_. And while the Warblers had certainly put the same pressure on him when he was the lead, it never felt so _intense_.

The spring in his step started to fade as he approached the rehearsal room and he didn’t hear any voices. No singing, no laughing, not even any yelling. That was unusual—he expected them to be hard at work like always, especially this close to Sectionals.

 _We really should be too_ , he thought. _I know we’re counting on only having to be better than the other teams, but really, we need the practice_.

He brushed those thoughts away, mentally scolding himself, as he opened the door and looked inside.

To his shock, the room was almost completely empty. Trent sat at the piano on one side of the room, playing something quietly. Dave sat on a couch nearby, feet on the coffee table, book in hand and a pencil behind his ear. On the other side of the room, Nick and Jeff sat hunched over a textbook. He could see their ankles entwined under the table.

Dave was the first to look up. He’d tossed his uniform blazer and tie over the back of the couch, and looked, for the first time in Blaine’s memory, comfortable and unguarded. He was glad for that. They’d probably never be friends, but he hoped for the best for Dave.

“Hey, Blaine,” Dave greeted him with one of his trademark macho half-nods.

“Hi Dave. Um, no rehearsal today?”

Trent turned when he heard Blaine’s voice and gave him a broad smile. “Hi, Blaine. Shouldn’t we be asking you the same question?”

“Yeah, aren’t we, you know, going to be your competition in a few weeks or something?” Dave added.

Blaine held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You got me. I’ve been a spy all along.”

Trent rolled his eyes. “Blaine, sweetie, we’ve had this discussion. Or maybe it was with your hot friend. But the same conclusion applies: you’d be a terrible spy.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Any time, love.”

Dave just shook his head, but there was something fond about the way he looked at Trent. “So to answer your question, no rehearsal today. Sebastian and a bunch of the guys are in all that photography class together, and apparently they have an assignment due tomorrow and no one finished it yet.”

“ _I_ finished it,” Trent contradicted him, but threw a wink over his shoulder to soften his snotty tone. Dave just rolled his eyes, but the fond half-smile stayed firmly in place.

“Okay, fine. No one but Trent finished it.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. Do you know where he is? Sebastian, I mean. I wanted to talk to him about something.” He knew his nervousness would make his friends suspicious, but he couldn’t help it.

“He’s probably in the photo lab,” Nick joined in from across the room. “I can walk you down there if you don’t know where it is. I should probably be working on it too.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

Nick closed his notebook and gave Jeff’s shoulder a quick squeeze before getting up. Blaine waved goodbye to the three other boys and he and Nick walked out and down the hall together.

He lasted about a minute before he just _had_ to say something. It felt like his happiness for Nick would overflow if he didn’t. “So I’ve been hearing some rumors,” he began, teasingly.

Nick flushed a little and kept looking straight ahead, though his face split into a shy grin. “Have you now.”

“I have indeed. Very interesting ones too.” He gave Nick a light, friendly punch on the arm. “Seriously? You and Jeff? I’m really happy for you. It’s about time.”

Nick flushed even deeper and ducked his head. “Thanks.”

“Anything else important that I’ve missed? Call me crazy but I miss the gossip here sometimes.”

“I don’t know _why_ , but alright. Um, let’s see. You probably know about Wes and Sophie. Sebastian hasn’t killed him yet, so that’s a plus.” He stopped talking suddenly, and when Blaine glanced over at him, he looked embarrassed. “I forgot… You probably don’t want to hear about that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I um… I’m really sorry about you and Kurt. That sucks.”

“Oh no. Don’t do that. Not you, too. I get enough of that at McKinley. I’m here to see my friends.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, then you’ll probably love to hear that Thad and Trent are planning what may or may not be the most elaborate and dangerous prank yet for the new guys. It’s set for after Sectionals, so I’ll have to let you know how that pans out.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and groaned. “They’re _still_ doing that?”

“They haven’t gotten busted yet, so yeah, they’re still doing that. By the way, did they pull one on you when you transferred? I can’t remember.”

Blaine tried not to flinch at the memory. It hadn’t been _that_ bad, really. They’d skipped all the dangerous stuff since he was so jumpy. “It took three days to play out.”

“ _Three days_? God. I’d hate them both.”

“I did, for about five minutes, but I knew they meant well.”

“I’m sure it didn’t feel that way at the time. I guess I’m lucky that Jeff and I started here at the exact same time they did, before they started hazing the new guys. Though they did fill mine and Jeff’s room with balloons last year.”

“ _Filled_?”  
“Floor to ceiling. I have no idea how.”

Blaine laughed. “That sounds kind of amazing, actually. Did you get them back?”

Nick flashed his best wicked grin. “Not _yet_. Anyway, here we are.”

Blaine looked up and realized he had no idea where they’d been walking for the past several minutes. The classroom was empty, though he saw a few students had left their books scattered on desks. On the far wall was a narrow revolving door, completely blacked out so no light could pass through. He guessed that was the darkroom.

“I’ll go into the darkroom and grab him. Trust me, it’s not the place you want to be if you don’t know what you’re doing. Be right back.”

While he waited, Blaine glanced over the room. He couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize it. He thought he knew all of the art classrooms since he’d spent most of his sophomore year, especially right after his transfer, holed up in them. Art classes tended to be small, and since most teenage boys weren’t inclined to spend hours on their assignments, the classrooms were usually empty and quiet, a good refuge when he didn’t want to go back to his dorm.

As he glanced over the room, he saw that one of the walls was covered in photo prints. They were hung in groups of six or so, and as he walked over to look, he saw that they were all previous assignments.

He started at one end of the wall and worked his way across, scanning over each photo casually. They were all black and white photos, varying in their contrast and intensity. The assignments started out simple—“line,” “shadow,” and the like—then got more complex. He knew instantly which of the “still life” photos was Sebastian’s—it was the only one upside-down, and when he looked closely, he could see the reflection of Sebastian, standing on his hands, in the silver bowl. He chuckled to himself, remembering how Sebastian had grinned when telling him that story on the day of their first photography adventure.

When he got to the “self-portrait” assignment, he slowed down. He didn’t know everyone in the class, but those he did surprised him.

Nick’s photo was a close-up shot, cutting him off just below his eyes and just above his waist. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was chewing on one thumbnail. His sleeves had been rolled up and all across his arm were faded words, like he’d written notes on his hand and just kept going up to the elbow. They were blurred and washed-out, but Blaine thought he recognized Jeff’s angular, sloping handwriting.

Wes appeared in his self-portrait as a faint reflection in a window; outside, appearing to grow through the center of his body, was a tree.

Trent had cropped a close-up of himself into a long, narrow strip. All that could be seen was one eye, and the farthest right third of the picture was just background, but Blaine knew it was him all the same from the distinct way the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose crinkled when he smiled and stuck his tongue out.

Sebastian’s photo was a study more in contrast than in actual portrait. It was a close up of the side of his face, emerging from a completely black background. He was lighting a cigarette, the flame from the lighter illuminating his cheekbones and lips and eyes but leaving the rest in shadow.

He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at that photo when he heard the rotating door creak and rumble and Sebastian stumbled out into the light. He flinched and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, muttering curses to himself. “Fucking _hell_ I’m like a fucking _lizard_ when I get out of there.” He opened one eye and noticed Blaine. The look of shock on his face was priceless. “Blaine. Hi.” He didn’t seem to be able to say anything else for a second.

“Hey. I was just looking at all your photos. They’re really good.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He rubbed his eyes again. “Sorry. I am not at _all_ smooth right now. I think the photo chemicals have killed a few of my brain cells over the last few days.”

Blaine couldn’t help but smile at his fumbling. “Well, maybe I can help with that. I wanted to talk to you about something…you know, if you can spare a little time.”

Sebastian gave his trademark smirk. “I can _always_ spare time for you, killer.”

 _Aaaaand there he is_ , Blaine thought, smiling even wider.

 

~~~~

**124**

“So… Is the assignment giving you trouble?” Blaine asked as they sat across from each other in the completely empty dining hall, cups of coffee in hand.

Sebastian grinned evilly. “You have _no idea_. Turns out I was completely wrong about you being hot and photogenic. I don’t have a single shot that could work.”

Blaine wrinkled his nose and reached across the table to smack Sebastian’s arm. The other boy laughed and winked even as he fumbled his coffee cup, trying not to spill all over himself.

“Hey hey hey, no reason to get violent, tiger, I was _joking_.”

“Don’t be mean.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he sipped his coffee. “A little sensitive today, wonderboy?”

“I’m _not,_ it’s just…” He sighed. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Oh shit, what did I do now?” There was more than a little sarcasm in Sebastian’s voice.  

It just frustrated Blaine, and he let out a huff of annoyance. “I just don’t see how you can be so… _casual_ ….” He fidgeted with his cup, suddenly unable to meet Sebastian’s eyes. “Like nothing even happened.”

A very long, heavy pause settled over them. “I figured that’s why you were here.” Sebastian’s voice softened, but Blaine didn’t look up, even when he shifted in his seat and sighed. “Look, Blaine, it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. Write it off as, I don’t know, stupidity, or me trying to get in your pants one more time. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that and we can just forget it ever happened.”

Blaine looked up and his heart dropped when he saw that Sebastian was serious. So that was it. It didn’t mean anything after all. It was just Sebastian being Sebastian.

“But _you_ ,” his voice sank down to a whisper as he glanced around, making sure no one was around to overhear, “kissed _me_. You did. You can’t deny that it happened.”

“I’m not denying that it _happened_. I’m just saying that that’s how things have always been between you and me.” Sebastian’s shoulders had dropped, and a look of resignation came over his face. “So if that’s what you want, you can blame me and get on with life.”

Blaine felt tears stinging at his eyes. God, it was so humiliating. He had gone and made it all up in his head again.

“Jeez, killer, don’t look so wounded. You look like someone just killed a puppy.”

He gaped at him. He couldn’t _believe_ it. “So what, that’s it?” he spat, slapping both hands down on the table, startling them both. He felt the anger rising in his chest—anger at Sebastian, of course, but also at himself for being so stupid. “These last few months, all of it, it doesn’t _mean_ anything?”

“Blaine, that’s not...” Sebastian stopped mid-sentence when he saw the anger in Blaine’s eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Tell me, Sebastian, honestly.” He stood, trying to choke back the desire to cry. He wouldn’t let him see that. “Because clearly, I don’t understand. I came here today thinking that maybe, just maybe, us being friends and helping each other out and talking all the time actually _meant_ something. I came here today to tell you that I wanted to give you a chance, a _real_ chance, so that the two of us could have something. But if you don’t want that, then I guess I was just wasting my time.”

Sebastian’s mouth dropped open in shock as Blaine turned to leave, biting his lip to keep the tears of anger and humiliation from flowing.

“Blaine?” Sebastian’s voice, swelling with repressed panic, followed him out. “A real chance? What did you mean by that?”

Blaine was already gone, the doors closing behind him, by the time Sebastian finished the question. He left the building and got out to his car almost at a run, biting his lower lip until it bled to try to keep from crying. He didn’t know what impulse made him pull up Sophie’s number in his phone as he got into his car and slammed the door behind him. He jiggled his knee impatiently, tapping out a wild rhythm on the floor with his foot, as it rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Hi, this is, uh, Sophie Smythe. Leave a message I guess.”

“Hi, it’s Blaine. You know when you said if your brother made me mad, you’d fix it? Well, I need you to fix it.”

 

~~~~

**125**

**Sophie:** You are the biggest idiot in the known universe.

 **Sophie:** NASA is building a new fucking Hubble telescope in hopes of finding a universe where someone is as completely fucking stupid as you are.

 **Sophie:** I grew up with you and you STILL astound me with how much of a dumbass you are

 **Sophie:** HAVE I MADE MY FUCKING POINT

 **Sebastian** : Jesus Sophie not right now

 **Sophie:** Fuck you. We are having this conversation right fucking now.

 **Sophie:** Do you have ANY IDEA how fucking stupid you are?

 **Sebastian** : I’m beginning to have some idea.

 **Sophie:** Blaine Anderson is the single best fucking thing that has happened to you in a very long time

 **Sebastian** : Yes I know

 **Sophie:** And yet when he FINALLY comes to you to say he’s interested, you BLOW HIM OFF?

 **Sophie:** YOU ARE AN IDIOT

 **Sebastian** : Ugh yes you keep saying that as if I didn’t already know

 **Sebastian** : You think I’m proud of myself right now?

 **Sophie:** I don’t know, Sebastian. I honestly don’t know any more.

 **Sophie:** What I do know is that you have been scheming to get with this guy for A YEAR

 **Sebastian** : Hey it hasn’t been like that for a long time you know that

 **Sophie:** And somehow you managed to persuade him to be friends and he was really, really good for you.

 **Sophie:** You had to know that he’d want to be in a relationship. He’s not like all those stupid boys you chase around all the time.

 **Sebastian** : Yes Sophie so far you’ve only managed to tell me things I already know.

 **Sebastian** : So please, remind me again that he’s too good for me.

 **Sophie:** That’s not the point I was going to make. Shut up and listen to me.

 **Sophie:** You. Need. To fix this.

 **Sophie:** And don’t even BOTHER looking to me to clean up your mess this time. He left me a VERY detailed message and has since, in true drama queen fashion, refused to answer any of my texts or calls.

 **Sebastian** : What am I supposed to do? If he’s that mad he won’t pick up for me either.

 **Sophie:** I’d start with an apology. Leave ten voicemails if you have to. He’ll like that.

 **Sebastian** : I don’t even know where to begin!

 **Sophie:** “Sorry for being a dumbass, please forgive me.”

 **Sebastian** : Are you fucking serious

 **Sophie:** Honesty is the best policy and you ARE a dumbass.

 **Sebastian** : I hate you. Wish me luck.

 

~~~~

**126**

“You have one new voice message.”

“Hi, it’s me. Sebastian. Um… Let’s just be honest, Blaine, you know I suck at this…I don’t know what I said wrong. But I pissed you off. It seems I can’t help but piss you off, no matter what I do. And I’m sorry for that. Just don’t be so mad that you give up on me, okay? I’ve gotten used to having you around. Fuck, that sounds really bad, but it’s true. And I don’t want to ruin that because I was, once again, an idiot. So. Um. Fuck. Call me, or text, or whatever. When you want to. Bye.”

 

~~~~

 

**127**

Blaine hated to admit that he missed Sebastian, but by the fourth day of no contact, it had become pretty obvious.

He hated that this was becoming a pattern: attraction, fallout, distance. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Despite that—and despite Sebastian’s apology—he couldn’t bring himself to talk to him again. He wrote out dozens of text messages, only to delete them in frustration. At night, his fingers hovered over the ‘call’ button for long minutes, before dropping his phone somewhere—only to pick it up and do it all over again. When he slept it stayed under his pillow, on vibrate so it would wake him up—just in case.

Nothing.

Four days. Five. A week. Nothing.

He was utterly miserable, but knew he couldn’t tell anyone. A few of the Warblers, maybe, but no one had any idea the extent of their ( _failed attempt at a_ ) relationship. Talking to anyone in the New Directions about it was completely out of the question.

So he just loafed around and moped. When anyone asked, he made up an excuse. He was still sad about Kurt. He was tired from rehearsal. He’d stayed up too late doing homework. No one bought it, but no one said anything, either.

Except, of course, for Sam. In that understated, unspoken way he had, Sam simply refused to leave Blaine alone. In the two classes they shared, Sam kicked the kid who sat next to Blaine out of his desk and spent the entire period sharing inside jokes and smirks across the aisle. At rehearsal, Blaine threw himself into the choreography at Sam’s encouragement, dancing a little too hard and stepping on people’s toes until he forgot everything else for a few minutes. Sometimes, after rehearsal _finally_ wrapped up, they’d drive over to the mall and hang out at the arcade, playing endless rounds of Mortal Kombat.

He never pushed Blaine for an explanation, which he appreciated, and he never once mentioned Sebastian, which he appreciated even more.

That pattern continued until three days before Sectionals, which was scheduled for the Saturday before Thanksgiving. That afternoon, as they were about to walk into the choir room for yet another mind-bendingly difficult practice, Sam gently laid a hand on Blaine’s arm and held him just outside the door.

When the door had closed behind Brittany, Sam finally let him go to run a hand over the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Hey. Sorry. I just um… Can I talk to you for, like, a second?”

“Of course, Sam, what’s going on?”

Sam glanced around, then nodded his head down the hall to indicate they should walk away from the choir room. Blaine nodded and they walked, side by side, in uncomfortable quiet around a corner, just far enough that there was no chance of them being overheard.

Blaine waited for Sam to speak. He’d learned early on it was a bad idea to try to rush him when he had something important to say—he’d get flustered, mess it up, and walk away red-faced and silent. So Blaine just waited, trying to be patient, until Sam finally took a deep breath and began.

“You remember when I said, I’m not great at giving advice, but I’d try?” The look he gave Blaine was nervous, so he nodded encouragingly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe you’re just still sad about Kurt, and I can’t blame you for that. But I’m starting to think that there’s something more going on. Everyone’s noticed. I know they haven’t said anything, but it’s just because they’re afraid of getting you even more upset. And you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but I’m worried, and I want to know what’s going on with you.”

Blaine paused with the words “I’m fine” on his tongue. It was _Sam_. He had trusted Sam enough to bring him to _Warbler rehearsal_ , for god’s sake, he could tell him anything.

Except.

And that one word held him back from spilling everything. Except for the fact that Sam didn’t like Sebastian, had never liked Sebastian, and never _would_ like Sebastian. So revealing not only that they hung out, but that they’d kissed and oh yeah, the real reason he was such a mess was that Sebastian had turned around and rejected him—he couldn’t do that.

So he took a deep breath and told a half-truth. “It’s sorta complicated.”

Sam just set his jaw and crossed his arms. “I’ve got time.”

Blaine managed a smile. It impressed him, sometimes, how sincere Sam could be under all the impressions and goofy stripper-esque dance moves. “Believe me, _neither_ of us have enough time to explain it all.”

Sam shrugged. “So? Short version.”

“Short version? I got rejected. I’ve been hanging out with this guy, and it all seemed to be going great, until suddenly it wasn’t.”

Sam looked stunned. “Wait…he rejected _you_?”

Blaine shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag. “Seems that way.”

“Dude, that’s _insane_.” Sam stopped suddenly, looked down and ran a hand through his hair, as if embarrassed. When he continued, he still seemed a little sheepish, but plowed ahead. “I mean, dude, have you _looked_ at you? You’re, like, ten different kinds of awesome. If he rejected you, he must be an idiot.”

Blaine smiled and reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.”

“Yeah, that might work. Seriously though, I’m sorry, Blaine. That sucks.”

Blaine shrugged. “Like you said, I guess he’s an idiot. Maybe I’m better off.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Sam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “You ready for rehearsal? I think this may finally be the day Artie kicks my ass.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I can’t _wait_ until this weekend is over.”

He paused right outside the choir room door to pull Sam into a hug. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

“No problem, dude.”

 

~~~~

**128**

Blaine was not the type to get nervous before a competition, but he hadn’t exactly been operating at 100% lately, what with half of his mind taken up with thinking about Sebastian. It had gotten so bad that Blaine resolved if he messed up or the New Directions lost, he was just going to be plain and blame Sebastian for it. It seemed only fair.

It didn’t help that the Warblers were competing in Westerville at the exact same time, so he couldn’t even text Jeff or Nick to help work through his nervousness. He knew they would pick up for him, but he didn’t want to disturb them. So he made weak jokes with Tina (who was not nervous at all), tried to laugh at Sam (who covered his nerves by dancing like an idiot on the bus), and politely zoned out when Mr. Scheuster gave their “traditional” pre-competition pep talk.

They were seated in the audience waiting for the all-girl’s reform school Artie and Tina had warned him about (what was their team’s name again?) to take the stage when his phone started buzzing.

 **Jeff** : Our competition is a choir from an old folk’s home. Even I can’t make this shit up.

Blaine laughed to himself. Jeff was always the first to crack a joke when he was nervous. He’d once made Blaine laugh so loud during warm-ups that he’d been shoved into the hallway until he could calm down.

 **Blaine** : Lucky jerk. We’re up against an all-girls group.

 **Blaine** : Also, hi!

 **Jeff** : HI BLAINE. I MISS YOU.

 **Blaine** : The best part is, when I read that message, I can hear you yelling it at me.

 **Jeff** : That means you miss me too and have to transfer back. No arguing. It is decided. Make it so.

 **Blaine** : Not yet. Not unless Wes bangs the gavel. I think there’s a rule.

 **Jeff** : Give me two minutes, that is totally happening

 

 **Wes** : Jeff just tackled me yelling something about making you transfer what the fuck did you say to him

 

 **Blaine** : Don’t hurt the poor guy!

 **Jeff** : Oh he’ll be fine he’s just bitching because he’s nervous and Sebastian yelled at him again

 **Blaine** : What?

 **Jeff** : I don’t know what Sebastian’s problem is but he’s a little bitch lately.

 **Blaine** : And this is different how?

 **Jeff** : Sassy Blaine is back! I like this.

 **Blaine** : Jeff focus

**Wes** : You guys are assholes

**Jeff** : Sorry. Competition adrenaline. Sebastian’s just been in a constant lousy mood for, like, two weeks.

 **Blaine** : Did he say what’s wrong?

 **Jeff** : I asked. He usually tells me. But this time he didn’t. It started the day after your last visit, that’s all I know.

 **Blaine** : Oh.

 **Jeff:** Sorry I gotta get going, we’re assembling backstage.

 **Jeff** : Make sure someone records you and sends it to me, I miss you

 **Blaine** : I will. Break a leg!

 **Jeff** : YOU TOO! If you heard me yelling again you HAVE to transfer, gavel or no gavel

 **Jeff** : PS my spider senses are telling me you have something to do with Sebastian. And I love you but seriously do something to fix it?

 **Jeff:** Please god before he kills us all.

 

~~~~

 

**129**

His nerves only got worse when the New Directions piled into a backstage rehearsal room to warm up one last time. Their competition was good. _Really_ good. Even Tina and Artie had exchanged nervous glances, and that was _never_ good.

Mr. Scheuster was already pacing when they got there, which was actually pretty normal. (Blaine suspected the linoleum of McKinley’s choir room had to be replaced every year between the pacing and the dancing.) He managed to get them through vocal warm ups without completely freaking out, but it was close, especially when Brittany spaced out and wandered off for a second before Sam gently fetched her and led her back to the piano.

Finally, it was time to go. They huddled in the center of the room, as they always did, arms wrapped securely around each other’s shoulders and waists. Energy hummed in the air between them.

When Mr. Scheuster opened his mouth to give one last pep talk, Artie took the opportunity to clear his throat, instantly interrupting him before one of his notoriously bad pep talks.

“Mr. Schue, if I may.” He wheeled his chair forward an inch, placing himself square in the center of the circle. Everyone’s eyes rested on him as he paused, mostly for dramatic effect. “Hands in, everyone.”

They loosed their arms and brought all their hands to the center, anxious smiles creeping across their faces as eye contact flickered around the circle. Tina squeezed one of Blaine’s hands, and he grinned and returned it; Sam’s hand rested atop his other one. The hum became a buzz, centered over the backs of their hands, running from arm to arm.

And that, right there—the shared energy, the anticipation, the moment when nervousness becomes so extreme he just had to smile— _that_ was what he loved about performing. There was nothing like being there, with some of his best friends, feeding off of them and sharing their energy even as he sweated and trembled.

Artie grinned hugely at all of them. “Let’s kick some ass!”

They threw their hands in the air and screamed like complete idiots.

On their way out the door, they all dropped their phones in a pile on top of the piano (Mr. Schue’s rule), but a notification on the screen made Blaine stop as the rest of the group filed out.

 **Sebastian** : Hey wonderboy. Break a leg.


	14. Chapter 14

**130**

There was nothing like the feeling of the first few seconds of a song. The first few notes of “Edge of Glory” pulsed and filled the air as the lights rose up, sweeping over them and the audience in brilliant gold and orange and everything came together.

That one, single moment seemed to stretch into a blissful, nerve-wracking eternity in which he sweated and shook and prayed and _hoped_.

And then Tina sang.

“There ain’t no reason you and me should be alone tonight…”

And from there, the seconds ran together in a blur, lost as he sang and danced and ran to twirl Tina, giggling even as she sang, across the stage. He couldn’t see the audience, but he could _feel_ them, hear them humming and clapping along. He could feel the buzz in the stage as he danced, in his ears just below the edge of hearing. He felt like his skin itself was lighting up.

It carried over as he ran offstage for the freshmen’s small group number, keeping him bouncing on his toes and mouthing along to the words. It made his feet fly as he dashed back out for the closing song, rocking out with Sam and Artie, hitting their notes louder and fuller than they ever had during rehearsal.

They raced offstage to deafening applause, giggling and shouting and high-fiving and hugging each other. They spilled into the rehearsal room like a hurricane, Blaine carrying a shrieking Tina over his shoulder, Artie wheeling Sugar in on his lap. Within seconds, Mr. Scheuster ran back there with them, stumbling over his words as he congratulated them.

“You guys, that was—that was _incredible_! You had so much _energy_ , I can’t believe it!”

It took a long time for them to come down from their high and compose themselves, hugging and crying and laughing all the while. When they finally did, sweaty and smiling ear to ear, they grabbed their phones and bags and headed back out into the audience to watch their last competitor.

Blaine managed to keep his phone in his pocket, without checking it, for a grand total of one minute. He had three texts.

 **Jeff** : WE WON. COME BACK TO DALTON AND CELEBRATE WITH US.

 **Trent** : Break a leg! You’re gonna need all the luck you can get ‘cause WE’LL SEE YOU AT REGIONALS!

 **Sebastian:** Nailed it. Kick some ass out there.

Without thinking, flying high on the rush of competing and performing, he replied to Sebastian’s message.

 **Blaine** : Congratulations! Just got off stage. We killed it!

Tina nudged him as the next group began their first song (Frank Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”) and he pocketed the phone, trying as hard as he could to focus. It was no use. His fingers drummed a relentless, erratic beat on his knees and his mind raced.

He found himself, as he had so often as of late, thinking about Sebastian. Had he been there, Blaine wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist jumping into his arms. He knew Sebastian would lift him off his feet and laugh into his neck, pressing him so close he would feel it against his heart. Sebastian would press warm kisses on his cheeks, moving closer and closer to his lips until they met, still holding Blaine up so he stood on the very tips of his toes.

When he finally came back to reality, Tina was pulling on his arm.

“Blaine? Come on, they’re calling us on stage.”

Artie reached over to smack his shoulder. “Time to get our trophy, yo!”

 

~~~~

**131**

**Sebastian** : My god, you’re alive.

 **Blaine:** We won!

 **Blaine** : We won we won!

 **Sebastian** : Yes, you said.

 **Blaine:** No but we won! And now I get to crush you at Regionals! This is gonna be awesome!

 **Sebastian** : Crush us? I’d love to see that.

 **Blaine:** Well you win. Because WE WON!

 **Sebastian** : Okay, seriously, Blaine, chill. Congrats, that’s awesome. But chill.

 **Sebastian** : You’re starting to remind me of Jeff, and not in a good way.

 **Blaine:** Oh stop it like you don’t love Jeff

 **Sebastian** : Ugh he’s like an annoying puppy. He’s even worse than usual lately.

 **Blaine:** Maybe you should stop being mean to him.

 **Sebastian** : I’ve done no such thing

 **Blaine:** Bullshit.

 **Sebastian** : I had to close that text and open it again to make sure you actually said that. I am a TERRIBLE influence on you.

 **Sebastian** : I kinda like it.

 **Blaine:** Don’t start with that, please.

 **Sebastian** : Oh god what did I do NOW?

 **Sebastian** : Seriously I can’t seem to win with you lately.

 **Sebastian** : Not that I ever could, but I really thought I was making some progress.

 **Blaine:** What

 **Blaine:** Wait

 **Sebastian** : Never mind

 **Blaine:** Oh my god wait I texted you to say I’m sorry

 **Sebastian** : Don’t

 **Blaine:** Sebastian please just let me say this.

 **Blaine:** I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I didn’t mean what I said.

 **Blaine:** I can’t believe how much I miss talking to you and hanging out with you and I know I might have ruined that. So I’m sorry.

 **Sebastian** : Yeah I know.

 **Sebastian** : Look whatever, we can just forget the whole mess ever happened.

 **Blaine:** Don’t start with that again.

 **Sebastian** : Isn’t that what you want? Give me a hint here, killer, I’m kind of lost.

 **Blaine:** I don’t want to forget about it.

 **Blaine:** In fact all I could think about when we got off stage was how much I wished you were there

 **Sebastian** : Really?

 **Sebastian** : What would you have done if I was?

 **Blaine:** I’d jump on you and kiss you

 **Sebastian** : Really

 **Blaine:** Yes

 **Sebastian** : Where would you kiss me?

 **Blaine:** Your cheeks

 **Blaine:** Your lips

 **Blaine:** The freckles on your neck

 **Sebastian** : Oh

 **Blaine:** Would you kiss me back?

 **Sebastian** : God yes

 **Blaine** : The truth is I can’t stop thinking about what it was like to kiss you

 **Sebastian** : I can’t stop thinking about it either

 **Blaine** : I’m gonna take a huge leap here

 **Blaine** : I really want to do it again.

 **Sebastian** : I think this is a conversation we need to have face to face

 **Blaine** : I can’t right now, I’m celebrating with ND

 **Sebastian** : I’ll drive over. I won’t go in but I’ll drive over.

 **Blaine** : Oh my god yes please do

 **Sebastian** : Text me an address. I’ll be there in an hour.

 

~~~~

 

**132**

Within two minutes of Sebastian texting to say he was on the way over, Blaine began to feel like he was making a mistake.

There were risky decisions, and then there was inviting the guy your friends know as ‘the guy who almost blinded you’ over to their party when you were still confused about kissing him only a few weeks after breaking up with your boyfriend.

In short, there was risky and then there was just plain stupid, and Blaine was worried that this was the latter.

He tried to focus on other things—anything—in hopes that a distraction would help calm his nerves and keep his hands from shaking. He danced a lot—first with Tina, whose parents had once again cleared out to let them party; then a giggly slow dance with Sugar who made doe eyes at him the entire time. (He responded with blushing, awkward smiles.) Sam offered him a beer, which he declined, and a hug, which he accepted. He did NOT join the game of Spin the Bottle which began in one corner, but he agreed to a couple rounds of Truth or Dare, lying through his teeth when asked if he had any new crushes.

Exactly sixty-two minutes after his last text from Sebastian (not that he was obsessively checking…of course not), his phone buzzed again.

 **Sebastian** : I’m outside.

His hands started shaking again the second he read the text and he jumped up from where he’d been sitting on the floor, getting as far away from his friends as he could. He heard Tina shout after him but was already racing down the hall, praying that no one would come after him. He could only imagine the chaos it would cause if someone saw him and Sebastian outside.

He didn’t stop his mad dash until he’d burst through the front door and the freezing night air stopped him in his tracks.

Sebastian stood halfway up the path to the front door, just outside the glow from the porch light. He had his hands jammed in the pocket of his short coat, shoulders rolled forward against the cold. He looked up when he heard the door open, and Blaine saw so much cross his face in only a second—nervousness crossed with wild hope and joy, tempered by total fear. It was a tumultuous mix that perfectly echoed the clench in Blaine’s chest, as if his ribs could hold back the wild beating of his heart.

When he paused just a second too long, Sebastian smirked. “And here I heard all these wild promises about what you’d do when you saw me.”

Blaine crossed the yard in three steps, and Sebastian was ready to catch him when they collided, Blaine up on his toes and stretching up for a kiss. Sebastian’s lips were ice cold and Blaine’s were warm when they met, no finesse, just pressure and shared warmth and hasty gasps for breath. Sebastian wrapped his arms around Blaine’s waist and pulled him close just like he had imagined, forcing him to rise on his toes as he tangled his fingers in Sebastian’s hair. He felt Sebastian gasp as he gave a little tug, and he smiled into their frantic, greedy kisses and did it again.

“That’s more like it,” Sebastian whispered against his lips between kisses.

Blaine could only moan in response.

 

~~~~

 

**133**

They kissed like that, out in the front yard not caring if anyone saw, until the cold air had taken all the warmth from Blaine’s skin and he shook in Sebastian’s arms. Feeling the tremors under his skin, Sebastian took off his coat and draped it over Blaine’s shoulders. It swamped him, but was warm from his skin and smelled of his cologne.

Sebastian smiled. “Good god, you’re _tiny_ ,” he teased, wrinkling his nose and ruffling Blaine’s hair. Blaine squawked indignantly and dodged out from under his hand, then straightened and wrapped the coat closer around himself, faking offense.

“If that’s the way you’re gonna be, I’m going inside,” he huffed, turning away toward the house.

“Oh, what, _stop_ it,” Sebastian insisted, following him three steps back.

“No.” Blaine stuck his nose in the air, but he was grinning. “I’m mad at you now.”

He heard Sebastian scoff. “Blaine.” He didn’t respond. “ _Blaine_.”

He turned back when he stepped up onto the porch. Sebastian stood just below him, arms crossed over his chest. “I am _not_ going in that house. You’re cute, but I’m too pretty to be murdered by your friends.”

Blaine repressed a grin. “Are you saying there’s something you _won’t_ do to get in my pants?”

Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t know that was an option. Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m mad, I’m going inside.”

“Oh now don’t do that,” Sebastian laughed as he bounded up onto the porch. “I like where this conversation is going.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and sat in the porch swing that hung next to the front door. Sebastian sat next to him, ducking his head to lean toward Blaine. When he looked up, Sebastian paused just a hair’s breadth away, his breath warm against Blaine’s lips.

Blaine smiled. “I can’t _believe_ I’m letting you do this.”

Sebastian chuckled, low in his throat in a way that made Blaine’s toes curl. “You know you always wanted it.”

“ _God_ , yes,” Blaine admitted, closing the space between them in another kiss.

He didn’t know it was possible to smirk while kissing, but Sebastian pulled it off as he cupped Blaine’s face in his hands, drawing him in even closer.

Blaine wanted to lose himself in that moment. It was so warm, intense, unfamiliar and yet not uncomfortable. Sebastian held him gently but kissed fiercely, and he knew that a year’s worth of desire and lust were pent up behind the other boy’s lips. Sebastian’s tongue flicked gently into his mouth, asking permission, and Blaine leaned closer in response. They fought for control, Blaine reaching to pull the front of Sebastian’s shirt as Sebastian tugged at his hair.

Blaine found himself nearly ready to climb into Sebastian’s lap when the door opened.

They broke apart hurriedly, catching only the flash of a blond head and the words “Oh fuck, sorry dude,” before the door slammed shut behind Sam.

Sebastian just stared at the closed door for a moment and Blaine couldn’t help drink in the sight of him, hair mussed from where he’d been tugging at it, the collar of his shirt askew, lips red and moist. Blaine strained against his desire to recapture those lips and keep kissing him, no matter the risk of them being caught again. Sam wouldn’t tell anyone, and if Tina hadn’t already come crashing through that door in search of him, she probably wouldn’t.

When Sebastian turned back to him, he raised a sarcastic brow in his usual smirk. “And I think that’s my cue to get out of here.”

“But you just got here.”

Sebastian smiled at the pleading look on Blaine’s face. “We could go somewhere else. Or, you know, the back seat of my car.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I resent the implications of that last part.”

Sebastian pulled a mock-innocent face. It didn’t work. “What? It’s comfortable.”

“I don’t even _want_ to know how you know that. But seriously, you can’t go yet. I need to talk to you.”

“About me getting in your pants? Cause I really like that subject.”

“Can’t you be serious for a minute?”

“Nope. Thought you knew that was a Smythe family trait.”

“ _Sebastian_.”

He smiled, but settled back in the swing, facing Blaine directly. “Yes, Blaine. What did you want to talk about?”

But when he was staring into Sebastian’s eyes, he suddenly felt his resolve fade and all words escape him. “I wanted… I wanted to talk about us.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now. I give your friend two minutes before he figures it out and comes after me.” He was about to get up from the swing, but stopped when he saw the look on Blaine’s face. His smirk softened, growing a little fonder. Blaine realized he must have looked really desperate to prompt such a look. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I gotta get the hell out of here now, but I’ll make some free time over break. And you can talk about your feelings to your heart’s content.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him. “And you will…?”

Sebastian smirked again. “Listen. While I think about getting in your pants.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and did his best put-upon sigh before shoving at Sebastian’s arm. “Fine. Be that way. Go.”

Sebastian chuckled. “See you.”

Blaine sat back and watched him walk away, and he _definitely_ wasn’t enjoying the view of Sebastian’s ass. He was disappointed, though, that Sebastian didn’t look back once. It was too romantic to expect from him, but it would have been nice.

He sat back and shivered, hugging the coat closer around his shoulders. As he did, he caught a whiff of cologne—citrus and a hint of spice. The scent Sebastian wore, that had filled the air around them the first time they kissed.

“Sebastian, wait!”

He dashed across the yard, catching up to the other boy, who was just opening the driver’s side door of his car. His gaze alone was enough to stop Blaine is his tracks a few steps away.

“You…forgot your coat.”

Sebastian smirked. “So I did.”

Before he could react, Sebastian had grabbed the lapels of the coat and pulled him forward into another intense, claiming kiss. Blaine sank into it immediately, sliding his hands around Sebastian’s waist and digging his fingers into his back.

“You planned this,” Blaine whispered when they finally broke away.

“Of course I did,” Sebastian responded, his breath warm against Blaine’s cold lips. He slid the coat from Blaine’s shoulders slowly, as if taking advantage of a chance to touch him. “See you soon.”

Despite the cold, it took Blaine a long time to make his way back into Tina’s house. He could still feel Sebastian’s lips on his, even hours later when he fell asleep.

 

~~~~

 

**134**

Thanksgiving had never been Blaine’s favorite holiday, but since Cooper moved out, it was just plain awkward. He and his parents never saw eye to eye on much, especially not him and his dad. Cooper was the buffer between all of them, putting up a wall of chatter that prevented the conversation from drifting into the awkward “subjects we’ve all tacitly agreed not to touch.”

So he sat silent on the opposite side of the couch from his father, trying to watch football and sipping a soda that had long ago gone warm. He sent a few texts back and forth with Tina, but she was with Mike and he didn’t want to distract her too much. It was the first chance he’d had to come home since August, and she was beside herself with joy.

He was tempted to text Sebastian and see if he could spare a few minutes just to distract him. They’d been texting a lot since the last time they’d seen each other. He knew he was coming across as a little desperate but couldn’t stop. The comfortable, casual way they talked about unimportant things reminded him of the first few days of their friendship, over a year ago. Sebastian still flirted and teased, and Blaine still playfully brushed him off. Most of the time.

Other times (times he could not, _would not_ think about when in the same room as his father) he played games and strung Sebastian along. One particularly memorable instance, a few nights before—

His train of thought came to a screeching halt when the front door slammed. He and his father sat bolt upright in surprise. They weren’t expecting any company for dinner, especially not someone comfortable enough to just walk in--

“Hiya, Squirt!”

Oh fuck. It was Cooper.

His voice was shocked and strangled when he finally managed a “Hi, Coop,” but it hardly mattered, because his father was already up and sweeping his brother into a hug. But Cooper was not to be distracted from his mission, which seemed to be “Get to Baby Brother.”

“Hey buddy,” he practically shouted as he grabbed Blaine and pulled him up off the couch and into a rib-crushing hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Coop,” Blaine managed as Cooper ruffled his hair. “Why are you here?”

“Audition in New York next week. I’m driving from LA to there. I thought I’d stop by and spend a few days with my baby brother. Did you stop gelling your hair? I like it. PS, your clothes have gotten _much_ better.”

Well, at least now Blaine wouldn’t have to worry about carrying the conversation through dinner.

He would, on the other hand, eventually have to explain that he’d broken up with Kurt. That was not going to be a fun conversation to have with Cooper, who would inevitably embark on some misguided mission to help him feel better.

Hopefully, with it being a holiday weekend, even Cooper couldn’t get him in that much trouble.

“Baby bro, what’s with the long face?” He was dragged away from his thoughts by Cooper poking his cheek. “You look like someone broke up with you or something.”

 

~~~~

 

**135**

Late that night, Sebastian lay on Cassie’s couch, one arm around a sleeping Katie, the other flipping through the pictures on his digital camera, working backward through the night. A picture Sophie had snapped of him doing the dishes, flicking soap bubbles at her. Sophie sticking out her tongue through a mouthful of cake. Cassie presiding over the table. Katie with her face covered in spaghetti sauce. Cassie and Sophie sword fighting with wooden spoons in the kitchen.

Across the living room, Sophie and Cassie had already fallen asleep, their annual “first Christmas movie of the year” screening having ended about thirty minutes before. (This year they chose “It’s a Wonderful Life” for the second year running, because it was Cassie’s apartment and she got the only vote.) They’d started the tradition as kids and picked it up again the year before when the twins moved back to the States, and though it was incredibly cheesy, it was comforting. He’d been drifting off during the last half of the film, having seen it dozens of times over the years, until Katie had climbed down from her mother’s lap and demanded that ‘Uncle Bas’ pick her up. She’d fallen asleep within five minutes, and he, not wanting to wake her, had contented himself with watching reruns and looking through his pictures.

He was almost through all that he’d taken that night when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. It took him a while to fish it out, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleeping toddler. He raised a curious eyebrow when he saw the text was from Blaine.

 **Blaine** : My brother is here. God help me.

 **Sebastian** : 1. Hi. 2. You have a brother?

 **Blaine** : 1. Hello. 2. Yes. His name is Cooper. Save me.

 **Sebastian** : Is he as insanely attractive as you are? Because if he is, I may be tempted to do just that.

 **Blaine** : Not you too. He’s not gay.

 **Sebastian** : Details

 **Blaine** : Sebastian

 **Sebastian** : Sorry. I’m listening. Er. Reading.

 **Blaine** : He wants to take me out tomorrow night. To “get my mind off things.”

 **Sebastian** : Please tell me that means what I think it means

 **Blaine** : Oh god I just realized it probably does.

 **Sebastian** : You have my full and undivided attention.

 **Blaine** : I’m terrified

 **Sebastian** : Blaine, it’s YOU. How wild can it POSSIBLY get?

 **Blaine** : Um okay don’t judge me

 **Sebastian** : This sounds promising

 **Blaine** : But the last time he took me out, I showed up to school Monday still drunk and wearing clothes from the day before

 **Sebastian** : Oh my god I just laughed so loud I woke up Katie.

 **Sebastian** : Side note, Smythe women have a trademark “bitch please” look, and Katie has already mastered it at the age of 2.

 **Blaine** : Oh god you’re with your family I didn’t even think

 **Sebastian** : No please continue. I’m at Cassie’s. Everyone is asleep except me.

 **Sebastian** : And, well, Katie’s awake now.

 **Blaine** : God I don’t want to talk about this

 **Sebastian** : Can I come too?

 **Blaine** : NO

 **Sebastian** : I can’t believe I’m about to say this but PLEASE

 **Sebastian** : I need to witness this.

 **Blaine** : No

 **Sebastian** : You know I’m going to show up

 **Blaine** : I hate you

 **Sebastian** : No you don’t.

 

~~~~

 

**136**

“Oh, _hell_ no.”

Sebastian grinned wickedly as Blaine opened the front door to find him standing there, leaning casually on the door frame like he’d actually been invited.

First of all, Sebastian looked like the walking embodiment of at least three deadly sins in skin-tight black jeans and a deep red long-sleeve shirt under a black leather jacket. Secondly, he was looking at Blaine with his trademark “I’m going to fuck you six ways from Sunday” smirk.

Blaine was tempted to slam the door in his face. The feeling lasted about two seconds, as it was overruled by the rest of his brain, which wanted to drag Sebastian upstairs by his collar. He compromised by turning away to let him in.

“I hate you so much right now.”

Sebastian just smirked and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans ( _why oh why did they have to be so damn tight?_ ) as he walked into the house after Blaine. “No you don’t.”

“Oh no, I really do.” Despite his harsh words, he was grinning. “I have never hated you more than I do right now. And that’s _really_ saying something. You need to leave right now and take your ridiculously tight pants—“

“Hey Squirt, you ready to go?”

It was fair to say that in that moment, Blaine hated absolutely _everything_. Because if there was one recipe for complete disaster in his life, it was Cooper and Sebastian (especially when he was dressed like that) together, taking him out.

He couldn’t face his brother at that moment, so he watched the expression on Sebastian’s face. He waited for what had become the inevitable reaction among his friends—the ways their eyes went wide, their mouths dropped open, and they got flustered and stumbled over their words.

Sebastian’s eyes certainly went wide, but it was with barely-repressed amusement. He could almost hear Sebastian saying, “Oh, this is gonna be _good_.”

Cooper didn’t notice, of course, but charged forward to shake Sebastian’s hand. “Hi, I’m Cooper Anderson.”

Sebastian’s grin just got wider. Blaine could see the laughter in his eyes, and his tone dripped fake sincerity when he responded, “Oh I know. I’m Sebastian Smythe.”

Cooper looked puzzled for just a second, and Blaine, horrified, realized that his brother recognized the name. Desperate to avoid Cooper’s inevitable attempt at Being a Big Brother (which would result in either him trying to beat Sebastian up or set them up…and he couldn’t figure which was worse), he jumped in between the two of them.

“Sebastian was just leaving, actually.”

“What? No!” Cooper gripped Sebastian’s hand even tighter, and Blaine saw that Sebastian was biting his lip to keep from laughing. “You’re coming out with us, right? Blainers here”-- he smacked his Blaine’s arm with his free hand—“needs to get his mind off of things, so I’m taking him out to show him a good time.”

Sebastian sent Blaine his best evil grin. “How could I turn _that_ down?”

Over Cooper’s shoulder, Blaine mouthed, “I hate you.”

 

~~~~

 

**137**

The longer they drove, the more Blaine hated Sebastian. He sank low in the passenger seat, arms crossed firmly over his chest, pouting.

That, of course, was despite Sebastian’s best efforts. The other boy sat in the back seat, slouching carelessly, responding every once in a while to Cooper’s running monologue and sending raised eyebrows at Blaine. Occasionally he’d lean forward to whisper something teasing in Blaine’s ear, pitching his voice in that low, rumbling tone that sent shivers down his spine. Finally, he got so frustrated with the combination of arousal and annoyance that he planted his hand in the middle of Sebastian’s forehead and pushed him back into his seat, causing him to break into gales of laughter, which didn’t stop until they’d gotten to their destination.

Blaine took one second to thank whatever god was watching out for him that day that it wasn’t Scandals, because that would have been too much even for the bad karma he seemed to have accumulated lately.

It was, in fact, an arcade. A _huge_ arcade. The sign out front read “laser tag.”

“Oh, _fuck_ no,” Sebastian groaned from the back seat, but Blaine was already grinning ear to ear. When he turned to Cooper, he saw that his older brother was doing the same thing. “Oh, fuck _yes_. Late-night laser tag.” He sent Sebastian a dazzling smile in the rearview mirror. “Blaine and I used to do this all the time when he was a kid. He’s like a _ninja_.”

Blaine turned to give Sebastian his best reassuring smile. “Hey, I put up with your stupid sibling tradition, so it’s your turn to put up with mine. And believe me, this isn’t _nearly_ the stupidest one.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Though I’m sure it comes close.”

“Nope. Not nearly.”

“You’ll have to tell me about the other ones, sometime. I’m sure they’re”--

Sebastian didn’t finish the sentence, as Cooper, who had been ignoring the whole conversation, abruptly interrupted. “Ready to go, squirt?”

Blaine just closed his eyes against the embarrassing nickname. He couldn’t face the smirk on Sebastian’s face without smacking him. “Cooper, _please_ don’t call me that.”

“Aw, c’mon, little brother, let me have a little fun. I’m sure Sebastian’s older brother has a nickname for him.”

“Older sister, actually,” Sebastian corrected him, a touch of humor in his voice, “but her nicknames for me aren’t nearly so nice. Her favorite one lately seems to be ‘dumbass.’” He shrugged carelessly and added, “I probably deserve it.”

Blaine smiled a little as they all got out of the car. “You probably do.”

“Yeah. Especially after the weekend we watched Katie.”

They walked side by side, a few steps behind Cooper, who strode ahead with a swaggering determination that Blaine secretly called his ‘celebrity walk.’ Sebastian had his hands in his jeans pockets and his elbow bumped Blaine’s unintentionally.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What did you do?” Blaine asked. Sebastian always seemed to have the best stories.

“We dyed her hair blue. What?”

Blaine had stopped walking simply from the shock. “You did _what_? Sebastian, she’s _two_!”

The other boy turned back, laughter sparkling in his eyes and a wicked grin playing on his lips. “Calm down, killer, it wasn’t permanent. We used Kool-Aid.”

Blaine sighed in exasperation. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Come _on_ , losers,” Cooper shouted from the front doors of the arcade. “Laser tag awaits!”

 

~~~~

**138**

Blaine was not as good at laser tag as he used to be. Only ten minutes into their second game, he had bruised both knees, gotten elbowed in the ribs (accidentally) by Sebastian, and tripped over Cooper as he was hiding. He was losing, badly, and it was sort of embarrassing.

The fact that the arcade now blasted music during late-night sessions was not helping. He always had an edge over Cooper who (and maybe this was partially to blame for all his _yelling_ ) was deaf as a post, but the music made it so much harder to hear when someone was sneaking up on him…

…Which Sebastian apparently was, or had been, because suddenly, a foot caught Blaine in the thigh and Sebastian landed fully on top of him with a squawk. All the air was crushed out of his chest in a rush and was replaced with the smell of Sebastian’s cologne and the warmth of his skin.

“Oh holy shit, I’m sorry,” Sebastian began, trying to get up but only succeeding in tangling them together even worse. He stopped suddenly when they locked eyes in the half-light. “Oh. Hey. I am _so_ glad you’re not your brother.”

Blaine smacked his arm, making him laugh. “Do you always go tackling random people in the dark? On second thought, don’t answer that. Get off.”

Sebastian laughed again and tried, jokingly, to plant a kiss on Blaine, who repeatedly smacked his shoulders, giggling, “Stop it stop it _stop_ it!”

Sebastian just struggled to his feet, pulling Blaine with him and picking him up over his shoulder. He yelled and kicked, but Sebastian was not to be dissuaded. He laughed and shouted, “Off to find Cooper!”

They got three steps before Sebastian tripped over Blaine’s discarded plastic gun and they both went down hard. Blaine on his elbows and back, but Sebastian landed flat on his face and lay there, groaning.

Blaine sat up and shook his shoulder, but got no response. “Sebastian? You okay?”

The other boy hauled himself up and rolled over onto his back, hands over his eyes. For a second Blaine thought he was really injured, but then his shoulders started shaking and laughter bubbled up from his throat. “Holy shit, wonderboy. I just busted my _face_ playing _laser tag_. This is not how I saw this night going.”

“Are you alright?”

Sebastian uncovered his face. He was smiling hugely, but there was a cut on his cheekbone, smudged slightly with blood. “What? Does it look that bad?”

Blaine resisted the urge to reach out and cup Sebastian’s face, though his hands moved a bit on their own. “You should probably go clean that up. It looks like it hurts.”

Sebastian reached up to touch it instinctively, then flinched. “Huh. Yeah, probably. Come on, wonderboy, aren’t you gonna come take care of me?”

Blaine began to follow Sebastian out, but paused. “Shouldn’t we tell Cooper?”

“Nah, let him play against himself for a while. I bet you it takes ten minutes for him to figure it out.”

Blaine couldn’t really argue with that, so he followed Sebastian out and into the bathroom down the hall. It was dim and rather unpleasant, so he tried not to touch too much.

Sebastian leaned over the sink and examined his face in the scratched mirror, wrinkling his nose when he saw the scrape. He poked at it, flinched, and pouted even more. “Fuck.”

Blaine grinned a little and pulled some paper towels from the dispenser, then soaked them in cold water from the faucet. “What? Getting roughed up is a good look for you.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “ _That_ is a conversation we will definitely have later. Oh, thanks.” He took the paper towels from Blaine and turned back to the mirror, blotting away the smudge of blood on his cheekbone. “At least it isn’t as bad as the last time,” he muttered to himself.

Blaine heard and looked up at him suspiciously. “As in your last laser tag injury, or…”

Sebastian snorted. “Nope. Last time I got a black eye. Sophie punched me.”

Blaine’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Sophie? Gentle sweetheart Sophie? As in your _sister_.”

“Uh, yeah, last I checked, I only knew one.”

“She _punched_ you.”

“Yeah.” A smile played on Sebastian’s lips. He was enjoying the game he was playing with Blaine. “Last year. After…yeah. You can probably guess why.” The smile had faded.

Blaine let that sink in for a moment, but knew if he left it too long, it would ruin the whole conversation. So, after a thoughtful pause, he responded, “I think I like your sister a little more, now.”

Sebastian laughed. “I’ll make sure to tell her you said that. Alright, shall we go rescue your brother from invisible laser tag ninjas?”

Blaine smiled back. “It’s been at least ten minutes. You might have won your own bet.”

Sebastian slung a casual arm around Blaine’s shoulders as they walked out of the bathroom and back toward the laser tag arena. “I think you’re right. So what do I win?” he asked with a jokingly overdone leer.

Blaine paused at that, then, on impulse, looked around to check that Cooper couldn’t see them before standing on his toes and kissing Sebastian’s un-injured cheek.

Sebastian smirked. “Eh, good enough.”

 

~~~~

 

**139**

The shock of waking up with someone else in his bed was enough to send Blaine straight onto the floor. The fact that it was Sebastian only helped a little.

He was 99% sure he remembered all of the previous night, and Sebastian jumping in his bed had definitely _not_ been a part of it.

The boy in question was lying face down on Blaine’s bed, spread-eagled and rumpled, dead asleep. He stirred a little at the _thump_ Blaine made when he hit the floor, opening one eye that wasn’t pressed into the pillow. “Mmph. Babe, you up?”

Blaine rolled onto his knees and pulled his pillow out from under Sebastian’s head, then hit him fiercely with it. Sebastian moaned into the mattress, pressing his face into it.

“Why are you in my bed?” Blaine demanded in a whisper so his parents didn’t hear. He wanted to yell, but the walls were thin.

The eye re-emerged from the sheets, then Sebastian turned his face to look at Blaine, a smirk already playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me you don’t _remember_ , wonderboy, it was possibly the single best night of my life.”

That earned Sebastian a smack in the face with the pillow and he rolled over on his back, laughing. Blaine jumped to his feet, still wielding the pillow, smashing him repeatedly with it as he hissed, “Shut up! I swear to god, Sebastian, if my parents hear you”—

Sebastian just snagged him around the waist and pulled him onto the bed, rolling them around so they lay face to face, Blaine struggling to free his arms so he could hit him some more. “Not so tough now, are you, wonderboy?”

Blaine kicked him in the shin and Sebastian wrinkled his nose at him. Up close, Blaine could see the faint bruising on his face… and every fleck of gold and brown in his green eyes, which were sparkling with laughter. It stunned Blaine speechless for a split second, which was enough time for the other boy to squeeze him and snuggle in a little closer.

“Re _lax_ , killer. We didn’t do anything. I actually slept on the couch and snuck up here when I heard your parents waking up. I wanted to see the look on your face.”

“So you just jumped into my bed?”

Sebastian shrugged one shoulder. “I tried to ask, but you slept right through it.”

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Sebastian just smirked. “I got distracted by how fucking _sexy_ you are, sorry.” He pulled one hand free from their tangled bodies to muss Blaine’s curly hair, which had come free overnight to hang in his eyes. Then his hand slid down to gently cup Blaine’s jaw, and he found himself turning into the touch, allowing Sebastian’s thumb to ghost over his lips, which parted almost involuntarily. His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the sensation, the moment of pure _touch_.

“Jesus, Blaine,” Sebastian whispered, his breath suddenly warm and close against his mouth.

It all happened in a split second: Sebastian pulling the pillow out from between them and grabbing Blaine by the hips to pull them chest-to-chest, Blaine tilting his face up and gripping the front of Sebastian’s shirt. When their lips met, Sebastian was already rolling them both over so Blaine was pinned on his back, arms around Sebastian’s neck, legs around his hips. Sebastian’s lips broke from his to work down his neck, and at the same time he pushed Blaine’s shirt up, hands wandering and searching for warm skin. Blaine pulled it over his head in one quick motion and was rewarded with the feeling of Sebastian’s lips on his collarbone and beginning to trail down his chest—

\--And then the door was flying open and someone was walking in. Both boys sat bolt upright, the shock on their faces perfectly matched by Cooper’s expression.

“Oh, shit!” Cooper shouted, dashing back out and slamming the door. “Sorry,” he called through it. “I’ll just, um, never mind! I’m walking away!”

Sebastian and Blaine just stared at each other for a long, awkward moment before they both burst out laughing. Blaine fell back against the bed and Sebastian slumped next to him, their shoulders shaking, tears forming in the corners of their eyes.

“Jesus, Blaine, aren’t you _ever_ alone?”

Blaine groaned and covered his eyes with both hands. “Apparently not. Oh god, how am I going to explain this? Cooper’s going to _kill_ you.”

“Should I be worried? Am I going to have to climb out the window or something?”

Blaine peeked out from under his hands. Sebastian had sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and was looking for his jacket. He had a wicked grin on his face, like he would love nothing more than to explain to Cooper what he’d just been doing with his baby brother. “You might have to. He has this idea that he’s a protective older brother. So unless you want to sit through a rambling ten-minute lecture, you’d better get going.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I _love_ those lectures. Hell, I _gave_ one only a couple weeks ago. But I think it’s best if I skip this one.”

Blaine sat up too, already sighing as he slipped his shirt back on. “So I guess you’re running out on me again.” It wasn’t a question—it was an admission of defeat, already resigned to the fact that he was leaving.

Sebastian caught the tone and sighed heavily. “Blaine, what do you want me to do?”

“You said we would talk about this.” He tried to keep his voice level, but the pouting tone crept in anyway.

“And we _will_.”

“When?”

“I don’t _know_ , Blaine, _sometime_.” Sebastian stood abruptly. “Now, am I going out the window or the front door?”

Blaine just crossed his arms over his chest, unable to look at him anymore. Tears stung behind his eyes. “The front _door_ , dumbass.”

He heard Sebastian sigh, then the mattress dipped beside him. He refused to turn his head.

“Blaine. C’mon, killer, look at me.”

When Sebastian reached out and gently turned his head, letting only his fingertips linger on Blaine’s cheeks, he kept his eyes down.

“Blaine, I promise I will find it in my cold, empty heart to have a serious discussion about feelings with you. And I will even stop being sarcastic for a few minutes when we do. Does that make you feel any better?”

“No,” he responded in his best pouty tone, though he could already feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was crazy how his emotions rocketed out of control around Sebastian. No matter how determined he was to be mad, his snark always got under his skin in the best possible way. “You’re a jerk,” he finally muttered, looking up at the other boy.

“Yeah.” Sebastian flashed a grin and planted a solid kiss on his mouth. “But you like it.”

He didn’t bother with a reply as Sebastian stood and pulled on his jacket. He looked about ready to say something else when there was another knock on the door.

“Uh, Blaine?” It was Cooper again. “…Can I talk to you for a second?”

Sebastian looked at the closed door for a second, then shrugged. “Guess I’m going out the window.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: A description of past homophobic bullying (at school) and a family disowning their kid. This is a heavy chapter.**

 

**140**

**Warning: A description of past homophobic bullying (at school) and a family disowning their kid.**

Nick had gotten in exactly two fights in his entire life. It was not a coincidence that both were in defense of Jeff.

The first time, he was six, so it hardly counted. He couldn’t even remember what it was about, just that he’d ended up with no worse than a bloody nose and skinned knees.

The second time, though, was a different story. They were thirteen, in the eighth grade, and it was the two of them against four guys. It had gone badly.

He didn’t see it start. He’d gotten changed after soccer practice and walked out of the locker room and Jeff had stayed behind to talk to his friend Caden. Jeff told him later that he thought they were alone, and somehow they’d gone from talking to kissing. (Jeff never shared the details.)

They weren’t alone. Nick heard Jeff screaming down the hall. He didn’t like to remember the details.

After that—and the resulting threat of expulsion for getting involved in the fight—he’d kept his head down for four years. He was a gentle guy, really, quicker to hug someone than to hit them. But when Jeff called him the Saturday after Thanksgiving, sobbing, Nick was immediately ready to throw punches. He ran out without even putting on a jacket, through yards and across the street.

He could hear the yelling by the time he got to the neighbor’s yard. Jeff was standing on the front porch, shouting to someone on the other side of the open door.

“Jeff?” he yelled as he bounded up the steps. “What happened?”

Jeff just crumpled into him, crying, and Nick tried not to panic. He’d seen Jeff cry before, of course, but this was verging on a full-on meltdown. He wrapped his arms tightly around Jeff’s shoulders and held him close, looking around for some clue as to what was going on. Whoever Jeff had been shouting at had retreated inside.

After a few minutes, Jeff’s sobs gave way to hiccups and short, gasping breaths and he wiped his face on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“He’s throwing me out.” His voice was cracked and raspy from shouting.

Nick’s mouth dropped open. He knew that Jeff’s relationship with his dad was precarious at best and combative at worst, all because Jeff was gay, but he had no idea it had gotten that bad.

“He’s—no! He _can’t_! He can’t just do that!”

“He is. I told him—about—about you and me, and…” Jeff squeezed his eyes shut, tears flowing again. “And he’s throwing me out.”

Nick took a deep breath and braced himself. This was not the time to panic. Jeff needed him to be calm. He gripped Jeff’s shoulders reassuringly and hoped his voice didn’t shake. “It’s okay, Jeff. It’s gonna be okay. This fucking _sucks_ and I know you’re scared but it’s gonna be okay. You’ll stay with me for the rest of break, and when we get back to school, we’ll figure it out.” He ducked his head to look into Jeff’s downcast eyes. “We’ll figure it out _together_. Okay?”

Jeff sniffled, and after a minute, nodded. “Okay,” he managed, though it was half-hearted and faint.

“Okay. Do you need me to get anything for you?”

The response was immediate and panicked. “I’m not going back in there.”

“Okay, okay, we won’t then,” he whispered soothingly, gently rubbing a circle on Jeff’s back. “We’ll just go. Okay? We’ll just go.”

Jeff nodded and reached for his hand. He took it, gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze, and they headed down the steps.

They walked with single-minded determination, shoulders hunched against the cold, willing themselves not to cry. Nick’s mind raced and tried to come up with a plan. His mom would let Jeff stay for the weekend for sure, but he didn’t even have any clothes. And when they got back to school, what the hell would he do then? Would Jeff’s family let him keep going there? He had a scholarship, sure, but the tuition—

He forced himself to stop. One thing at a time. The first and most important thing was to help Jeff calm down and get him somewhere he felt safe. Then—and only then—could they begin to think of everything else.

They were halfway to Nick’s house when a panicked voice called after them.

“Jeff! Jeff, wait!”

When they turned, Jeff’s mother was running after them. She looked utterly panicked, face flushed and tracked with tears. She rushed up and pulled her son into her arms, sobbing and repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. “I’ll fix this, honey, I swear. I swear I won’t let him do this to you. I love you, sweetie, I love you so much.”

Jeff sniffled and murmured, “I know, mom,” into her shoulder.

“I’ll fix it, Jeff. I don’t care what I have to do.” She pulled back and held his face gently in her hands, wiping away his tears. “By the time you come back for Christmas, I promise.”

She turned and bundled Nick into her arms then, squeezing him tight with desperation and fear and something, he thought, like gratitude. “I’m sorry about this, Nick, really I am. I love you both so much.” She kissed his forehead and gave him one last squeeze. “Please take care of my boy.”

“I will,” he promised, overwhelmed and, as it began to sink in, suddenly very scared.

She turned back to Jeff and pulled him close again. They held each other like that for a long moment, both sniffing back tears. There was nothing else they could say. The whole situation was simply too awful, too broken, for a few simple words to change it.

Finally, she kissed her son’s cheek one last time, told him she loved him, and then she was walking away. Jeff stood frozen, staring at her retreating back, until she disappeared back inside her house.

Nick reached out and took his hand. “Jeff?”

“Oh, my god,” he said after a moment, his voice low and distant. “Oh, fuck. This is really happening.”

Nick turned and pulled him into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay, Jeff. I promise,” he whispered in his ear, as soothingly as he could.

“I… I think I’m gonna pass out. Can we just go inside?”

“Sure. Sure, no problem. Let’s go.”

They took each other’s hands again and kept walking in silence. He had never been more grateful to get back inside his house, where it was warm and calm and safe.

Jeff stopped just inside the door. Panic rose and strangled his voice when he asked, “What if she says no?”

“She won’t,” Nick insisted, though he was frantically trying to come up with a backup plan in case she did.

He gently coaxed Jeff into the house. He could hear his mother in the kitchen. She’d been preparing dinner when he dashed out.

Jeff’s breath was coming shallow and fast by the time they got there. Nick’s mother was standing over the stove, humming along to the music playing from the vintage radio she set up on the windowsill.

She turned when she heard them come in and her face lit up. “Hi, honey. Hi, Jeff. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Jeff just looked at his feet and shuffled nervously, giving only a muttered, “Hi, Miz Duval” instead of his usual enthusiastic greeting.

“…Is something wrong, boys?”

Nick took a deep breath and braced himself. “Mom…Can Jeff stay here until we go back to school?”

Her eyes glanced over her son and Jeff like it had a million times over the last thirteen years. She only had to look at Jeff’s puffy eyes, the set of Nick’s jaw, and the way their hands were locked together to know the whole story.

“Oh, sweetie.” She crossed the kitchen to take Jeff in her arms and he sank into her embrace gratefully, trying not to start crying again. “Of course you can stay here. You can stay here as long as you need.”

Over Jeff’s shoulder, she saw Nick mouth, “Thank you.”

They set Jeff up on the fold-out couch for the night and found him some pajama pants and an old tee-shirt he’d left there the year before. The two of them sat together until Jeff fell asleep, which was early—any time he got overwhelmed or emotional, he just dropped right off. Nick knew it was his way of coping, but it didn’t help him at all. His stomach hurt and his mind was still racing, and sleep was a long way off.

He waited until he was sure Jeff was deep asleep before he carefully disentangled himself from his arms and padded over to the kitchen. He turned the radio on, careful to keep the volume low, and set the battered tea kettle on the stove.

The kitchen was his safe space. He’d grown up sitting at the kitchen island watching his mom and humming along to the oldies radio station. He’d learned to dance standing on her feet, learned to cook sitting on the counter. So, no matter what happened or how he was feeling, his place to think was right there.

He didn’t realize that he’d spaced out until he heard a soft knock on the door frame and his mother came walking in, dressed in pajamas and an oversized Dalton sweatshirt. “Hi, honey. I figured I’d find you here.”

“Hi, mom. Am I really that predictable?”

She shrugged and set out two mugs for tea. “You are, but that’s one of the things I like about you. I always know when you need me, because you’ll be sitting right there.”

He smiled a little for the first time in hours. “Guess a guy’s never too old to need his mom, right?”

She smiled back. “I’ll remind you of that next year when you’re off at college and think you’re all grown up.” She slid a mug across the counter and sat down facing him. “Is Jeff going to be alright?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Everything kind of sucks right now.”

“I can only imagine. That poor boy.”

“It’s really okay that he stays here?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I didn’t want to say too much to Jeff because he was so upset, but you don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve always considered you both my boys. I know it doesn’t fix everything, but no matter what happens, he’ll always have a home here with us.”

Tears stung at his eyes as the events of the day overwhelmed him. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, swallowing hard against the lump rising in his throat. When he finally set his hands back on the counter, she reached across to take them. “Nick, I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, but I can guess that it’s scary and you’re worried about Jeff and maybe a little about yourself too. But I want you to know that I love you, and I love Jeff, no matter what. We’re family, and nothing’s going to change that.”

“I know.” No matter how hard he fought, the tears came, and she pulled him into her arms like he was still a little boy. It took a long time for him to get it back under control, but she waited patiently, running her hands through his hair and rubbing his back.

“You should go to bed, sweetheart,” she murmured when he’d calmed. “Tell Jeff you love him, and tell him I love him. He’ll need to hear that now.”

“I love you, mom. Thank you so much—for this, for everything.”

“I love you too,” she responded, kissing his forehead. “But I’m still your mother, and I say go to bed.”

He wrinkled his nose at her as she took her tea and headed to her bedroom. He waited for a while longer, letting his breathing even out and the lump in his throat recede. When he felt he was ready, he went to check on Jeff one more time.

He was curled up in a cocoon of blankets, only some of his messy blond hair visible. Nick couldn’t help but smile at that, even as he felt incredibly sad. What Jeff was facing simply wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have to be sleeping on Nick’s couch, hunched defensively against the outside world.

He hesitated a second before he gently tapped Jeff’s shoulder, getting only a snuffle in response. “Hey. Scooch over,” he whispered and slipped under the blankets. Jeff’s warm arms slid around his waist and he tucked his head under Nick’s chin, nuzzling into the front of his shirt. Nick finally fell asleep like that, with the boy he loved warm and safe in his arms.

 

 

~~~~

 

**141**

**Dave** : You’re a girl

 **Sophie** : So I’ve been told.

 **Dave** : I need advice. Like from a girl.

 **Sophie** : Oh shit what’d you do? I’m using my mom voice.

 **Dave** : I didn’t do anything. At least I hope not.

 **Dave** : I just need to have an important conversation and not fuck it up.

 **Sophie** : OH MY GOD

 **Sophie** : Please tell me this is the conversation I think it is

 **Dave** : It’s true, I am considering becoming an existentialist.

 **Sophie** : Easy A quote. Well played.

 **Dave** : Does it make me a bad gay guy if I admit my raging crush on Emma Stone?

 **Dave** : Because seriously, holy shit she is awesome.

 **Sophie** : Oh god no, that girl. The things I would do with her.

 **Dave** : Okay this is getting weird, we need to focus.

 **Sophie** : Yes. Tell Mama Sophie your problems.

 **Dave** : Uh how about just this one problem and we can tackle all the other ones some other time? Like never.

 **Sophie** : Dammit Dave ask me a question or not, I have a date to get dressed for.

 **Dave** : You definitely shouldn’t have told me that

 **Dave** : I’m gonna go distract Wes, hang on

 **Sophie** : DAVE

 **Dave** : Sorry

 **Sophie** : Spill

 **Dave** : I need to ask Trent out on an actual date. I’m freaking out.

 **Dave** : Don’t laugh at me.

 **Sophie** : Oh sweetie

 **Dave** : Seriously the last time I tried to do this it went very badly.

 **Sophie** : Oh dear. You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. But for right now, all my advice-giving powers are at your disposal.

 **Dave** : Okay cause I have no idea how to even pull this off

 **Sophie** : Okay, so step 1, what do you want to do on this date?

 **Dave** : Um yeah that’s where all my planning stops

 **Sophie** : Wait you don’t even have any ideas?

 **Dave** : Um nope

 **Sophie** : Okay. Well, it’s you and Trent, and let’s face it, you are not the most traditional of couples, so the whole dinner and a movie route just won’t work.

 **Dave** : Is that your way of saying I’m screwed?

 **Sophie** : No. I’m just saying you should embrace the fact that you’re both a little different.

 **Dave** : Dinner and a movie is awkward anyway. Like I just spent a while talking with this person and now have to sit next to them in silence for two hours

 **Sophie** : Okay you’re not completely hopeless.

 **Dave** : Thank you.

 **Sophie** : Um you know I think I know something you could do

 **Sophie** : You used to play hockey, right?

 **Dave** : Yeah why

 **Sophie** : There’s this awesome park near Westerville that sets up a public ice skating rink each winter and I think it opens tomorrow.

 **Dave** : Oh no

 **Sophie** : Yes. You’re going to teach him to ice skate. Trust me, he will LOVE it.

 **Dave** : Okay no offense but that is INCREDIBLY gay

 **Sophie** : Uh, darling, I hate to break it to you

 **Dave** : Ugh point made.

 **Dave** : He’ll really like it?

 **Sophie** : Okay let me spell this out for you

 **Sophie** : He gets to borrow your sweatshirt, hold your hand, grab onto you when he slips, flirt with you over hot chocolate, and snuggle with you to warm up when you get back.

 **Dave** : You’re an evil genius.

 **Sophie** : Yep.

 **Dave** : Should I offer him my sweatshirt?

 **Sophie** : Nah he’s a devious little bitch, he’ll just take one.

 **Dave** : I love you.

 **Sophie** : I love you more.

 

~~~~

 

**142**

“So I’m almost afraid to ask…but what happened to your face?”

Sebastian was walking toward the rehearsal room when Jeff came up beside him. Instinctively, he touched the bruise on his cheek. It hadn’t been all that bad to begin with, and it had faded down to a faint bluish smudge over the weekend, but Jeff wasn’t the type to miss much.

“Ooh, let me guess,” Jeff shouted before he could respond. It was a game they played sometimes—if one of them didn’t want to talk about a situation, or was just being particularly bitchy, the other one came up with increasingly ridiculous guesses until one of them laughed. Jeff always lost, since he was on the receiving end of Sebastian’s dirty sense of humor, but never stopped trying. “You got into a terrible roller derby accident!”

Sebastian smirked, but shook his head.

“Okay. Um, you got in a terribly one-sided fight with one of those short dogs. The ones with the stumpy legs.”

He almost laughed at Jeff’s impression (he thought the other boy was aiming for Corgi, but just ended up looking ridiculous). “Getting colder.”

“Trent finally got fed up and punched you. I would _pay_ to see that.”

“So would I,” Sebastian had to admit.

“Ugh, I don’t know, I actually give up this time.” Jeff crossed his arms over his chest with a huff of annoyance. “So what _actually_ happened to your face?”

Sebastian stopped walking and gently put a hand on Jeff’s elbow so they faced each other. “I’ll tell you if you tell me how you’re doing.”

Jeff groaned. “Is it that obvious?”

“Probably not to the other guys, but I know how you get when you’re upset, so...”

“Ugh. You suck. I hate you.”

“I know you do. Come on, sit with me for a minute.” Sebastian led Jeff down one of the side hallways, where a couple of benches were set up against the wall. Jeff sat down heavily, letting his bag drop to the floor, and immediately leaned his head on Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian just sat, quiet, as he always did.

“So, long story short,” Jeff began, “everything sucks. And yeah. That’s pretty much all I can say about it.”

“That’s alright. Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“It’s just…” When Sebastian looked down, he saw that Jeff was twisting his fingers nervously. “My dad. He found out about me and Nick. And I told him. And…” His shoulders rose and fell with his deep sigh. “He kicked me out.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry, Jeff. That’s terrible.” He slid his arm around Jeff’s back and gave him a squeeze. “Do you need anything? I’d say you can stay at my house, but my dad is probably the second-biggest asshole on earth, but if there’s anything else I can do for you…”

“I stayed at Nick’s. I’ve pretty much lived there for the last couple years anyway.”

“Okay.” Sebastian shifted so they sat facing each other. “I know I really suck at this whole ‘being serious’ thing. But if you ever need anything—and I mean it when I say _anything_ —don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

Jeff gave him a weak, grateful smile. “Thanks, Sebastian.”

“No problem, blondie. Now c’mere and give me a hug.”

Jeff giggled and leaned in, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s waist and tucking his head into his shoulder. They sat there for a moment, taking comfort from each other, until Jeff forced himself to perk up and smile.

“So, deal’s a deal. What _really_ happened to your face?”

Sebastian smirked. “Alright, true story, I fell and bashed my face playing laser tag over the weekend.”

Jeff’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god. Oh my god you’re fucking serious.”

“Yeah. Alright, come on, let’s get to rehearsal. I have some awesome news for you.” He stood and offered Jeff a hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Ooh, I love surprises. What is it?” He poked Sebastian in the middle of his back as they started walking back toward the rehearsal room.

He just grinned and pulled an envelope from his bag. “I just got the rules and theme for Regionals. It’s gonna be a _bloodbath_.”

 

~~~~

 

**143**

“ _Classics_?”

“Oh god, we’re screwed.”

The entire time Blaine watched the New Directions have a meltdown over the theme for Regionals, all he could think, ironically, was that the Warblers would be celebrating. Classics were their whole _thing_ , while lately the New Directions tended towards Top 40, having sworn off Mr. Scheuster’s passion for classic rock the previous year.

Nick and Trent would be absolutely _freaking out_ , and he expected the “we’re gonna crush you” text from Sebastian would arrive any minute.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. Since the rest of the glee club were busy arguing among themselves over whether they were doomed to a spectacular failure or just a plain-old embarrassment, he took a second to discreetly check the message.

 **Tina** : Screw what everyone else thinks, you and I are gonna NAIL this.

When he glanced over at his friend, she was sitting with her legs crossed at the knee and her arms folded over her chest, in full ‘going to war’ mode. They exchanged looks of ‘we got this’ before Artie, as usual, wheeled to the front of the room to take control of the situation.

“Alright, y’all, settle down. Yes, I know it’s intimidating to be up against the Warblers _and_ Vocal Adrenaline at once. And I know that classics are totally the Warblers’ _thing_ and we haven’t even touched classic _rock_ since that very long week where we sang nothing but Fleetwood Mac. Believe me, I remember it all too clearly. And maybe being able to do only two songs instead of three limits our choices somewhat, but”—

“You’re not really helping, dude,” Sam interrupted from his seat.

\--“My point is,” Artie continued, sending a ‘bitch please’ look at Sam, “is that we are not nearly as screwed as you all seem to think we are. In fact, I can see a lot of ways that we can turn this around and use it to our advantage. Look, you all had faith in me for Sectionals and we _killed_ it. So let’s spend today brainstorming some songs, and we’ll pick them next week and beat the Warblers at their own game. Alright?”

They spent the next hour tossing ideas around and debating what, exactly, made something a classic. (Sam argued for classic rock, while the freshmen couldn’t get over the idea of “instant classics.”) Blaine occasionally contributed an idea, since his repertoire of classic showtunes was perfect for the theme, but it was hard with Tina constantly texting him from the other side of the room.

 **Tina** : Okay, I’ll all for instant classics, but seriously, “Gangnam Style?” Oh HELL no.

 **Tina** : I like this Adam kid, really I do. But if he interrupts me one more time, I WILL cut a bitch.

 **Tina** : Why have we never listened to Sam’s ideas?

 **Blaine** : Because normally his ideas are borderline terrible.

 **Blaine** : I mean, I love him, but…

 **Tina** : Yeah that’s probably true.

 **Tina** : How are you two doing, anyway? Things got smoothed over after Halloween, right?

 **Blaine** : Oh yeah that was no big deal.

 **Tina** : I didn’t think so, but I mean, the last time you drunkenly made out with someone at a party, it was Rachel.

 **Tina** : So I consider it my solemn friend duty to follow up.

 **Blaine** : Nope that was just me being a drunk idiot.

 **Tina** : Ok good. I mean it’s been over a month, but you never know.

 **Blaine** : Nope, everything’s all good. Thanks :)

 **Tina** : No problem.

 **Tina** : But you know what IS a problem? The fact that Adam is suggesting we cover the Spice Girls.

 **Blaine** : I think he’s trying to be funny

 **Tina** : NO BLAINE. HE’S STEALING MY IDEA.

 **Blaine** : Oh god

 

**Blaine** : Dibs on Wannabe

 **Tina** : DAMMIT

 

~~~~

**144**

The blinking icon in his Skype window came as a surprise, but when Dave clicked on it and Kurt’s face appeared, surprise didn’t even _begin_ to cover it.

“Kurt! Hi. Wow. Um, how are you?”

On screen, Kurt smiled. “Hi, Dave. Are you busy? I saw your screenname and just wanted to say hello.”

“Oh, no. I mean, yeah, I’m busy, but it’s just homework, so it can totally wait. What’s going on? Isn’t that show of yours opening soon?”

“Yeah, actually, this weekend.”

“That’s awesome! You nervous?”  
Kurt wrinkled his nose, but was still grinning. “Gee Dave, I don’t know. My first time _ever_ designing and sewing costumes for a show and it’s “Sweeney Todd?” What could I _possibly_ have to be nervous about?”

Dave chuckled. He’d never gotten to know Kurt’s nice-snarky side before—he’d been on the receiving end of a lot of (deserved) insults, but when they’d talked after he’d been in the hospital, Kurt had made a point of being gentle with him. “Hey now, no need for that. I was just trying to be nice.”

“So was I. That’s tech week nice, Dave, get used to it.”

“Okay, fine. So how is everything coming along?”

Kurt sighed and rested his face in his hands. “I might actually be dying. This is the first free time I’ve had in four days where I’m not sleeping or showering. One of the actors keeps ripping his damn costume.”

“What a bitch. You should try, I dunno, stapling him into it.”

“I tried that already,” Kurt deadpanned, then sent a wink through the webcam.  
Dave laughed. “For half a second there, I believed you.”

“He has to learn not to mess with me. May as well try that. Anyway, the reason I called is I wanted to invite you to the show.”

“Dude, like I’d miss it. I mean, I’d have to find out where it is and everything first, but I’d totally be there.”

“Good thing I’m saving you the trouble. I get free tickets. Well, I mean, everyone in the crew does because they can’t pay us. But mine just happen to be for this Saturday night, so I thought you and all the Warblers might want to come.”

“Thanks, Kurt, that would be awesome.”

Kurt was about to say something else when Dave’s door swung open and Trent strode in, already grinning ear to ear. “Hey babe, whatcha—oh, are you talking to someone? Sorry.”

Dave felt himself blushing and hoped like crazy Kurt didn’t hear that—though based on the raised eyebrows, he definitely did.

Trent barreled on, either oblivious or simply uncaring, and put a hand on Dave’s shoulder to lean in and look at the screen. “Oh, it’s Kurt! Hey, how are you?”

On the other end of the connection, Kurt giggled. “Hi, Trent, long time no see.”

Dave turned to look up at him, knowing that he was grinning like an idiot on top of blushing. He couldn’t help it. Since they’d started whatever it was they were doing, he found himself acting like a middle school girl. It was embarrassing, but it felt so _good_ he didn’t care. “He’s inviting us all to his show this Saturday.”

“Oh my god, that’s right, it’s this weekend! Of course we’ll be there, sweetie, you can count on all of us.” He turned back to Dave. “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll let you guys chat.”

“Okay, um, Sebastian is probably coming back in a little bit so I’ll just come over to your room?”

“Sounds good. Bye Kurt! See you this weekend!”

Kurt smiled and gave a little wave. “Bye Trent. See you soon.”

Dave kept silent, mortified and blushing, until Trent left and closed the door behind him. When he peeked back up at the screen, Kurt was giving his biggest ‘cat that got the canary’ smile.

 “Don’t _look_ at me like that.”

“Oh, Dave, come on. I think it’s _perfect_.”

“Really? Me and…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, and felt a little pathetic for it, but the way his heart beat all wild and fluttery when he thought _Trent and me_ made it hard to talk.

“Yes, Dave, I really do. Trent’s such a nice guy. And unless I’m completely wrong and you blush like a schoolgirl for everyone, it seems you might have a little crush.”

“I don’t… Okay, yeah. Maybe I do. A little.”

“Okay, look, I’m all for taking things slow. You know that.” Kurt put his Serious Face on. “But if you don’t ask that boy out by the next time I see you, I will take drastic measures. And believe me when I say you don’t want to know what those are.”

Dave sat back, feigning offense. “Hey now, what happened to ‘at my own pace?’”

“True love doesn’t wait, Dave.”

That stopped him. “Okay, seriously, that might be just a _little_ much.”

“Sorry. I got carried away.” Kurt gave a ‘what are you gonna do’ shrug. “But look, I’ll let you go. I’m sure Trent is looking forward to pretending to do his homework while he drools over you.”

Dave chuckled. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Oh, but I am. I, on the other hand, have to figure out how to talk to Blaine about the show.”

“Oh. Yeah, I heard about that. I’m really sorry, Kurt, that sucks.”

“It’s okay. It’s just that we haven’t talked since then and…” When Kurt drifted off and looked down at his hands, Dave was surprised by the twist of remorse in his chest. He thought he’d forgotten what it was like to want to hold Kurt, to kiss him…but apparently, he hadn’t. He was about to say something when Kurt looked up, giving a weak but determined smile. “Anyway, you think I should invite him?

“Of course. He’d totally go. And all of us will, too.”

“I’m glad.” Kurt’s smile became genuine then, and it made Dave feel warm. “It means a lot to me. But look, I gotta run, and you have more important things to do than listen to me complain about actors. I’ll email you all the information for the tickets, okay?”

“Sounds good. See you Saturday.”

“See you, Dave.”

 

~~~~

 

**145**

When Blaine’s phone rang, and it said “Kurt,” the rush of emotion was so powerful that he almost missed the call.

He could only hope that his voice was even when he picked it up and said, “Hello.”

“Uh…Hi, Blaine, it’s me. Um, I hope it’s okay that I called?”

“Yeah,” he responded too quickly, then took a deep breath, sitting back down at his desk, which he’d jumped up from only a moment before. “Yeah, it’s okay. Um, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” Kurt’s voice was insecure and unconvincing. “I mean, busy, obviously, with the show opening this weekend. But good. How are you?”

“I’m good. Since we won Sectionals last weekend, the pressure is off for a couple weeks, you know?” Blaine tried to settle back, but his shoulders were tense with the strain of trying to make small talk.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. Congratulations! Is Mr. Scheuster already freaking out about song selections for Regionals?”

Blaine managed a dry chuckle, trying not to tear up at the familiar banter about glee club. They used to love to gossip behind Mr. Scheuster’s back whenever he got too ridiculous—which was always. “Yeah. I have this theory that the school has to replace the choir room linoleum every summer because of his pacing.”

Kurt laughed. “I bet they do.”

The silence that fell was tense and awkward. Blaine shifted nervously, trying desperately to come up with something to say. “So, how’s the show?”

Kurt sounded relieved. “It’s going really well. I mean, I’ve been at the theater something like sixteen hours a day this whole week, but it’s coming together really well. That’s actually why I called. Since they couldn’t pay any of us tech people, they gave each of us a block of free tickets to a show, so I have a bunch of free seats this Saturday night. It would be really great if you and everyone else from glee club could come.”

“Yeah, absolutely! I was just talking to Tina and Sam about it the other day. They’re really excited.”

“That’s great. It’ll be so good to see them. I’ll email you the information. Um, you should probably know, since I only get tickets for one night, I invited all the Warblers too. So, you know. Just so you’re prepared.”

There was so much unspoken in that statement. Kurt didn’t know about Sebastian and him. God, he probably thought they were still enemies.

There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t cause a fight, which he simply couldn’t handle. Not when it felt so good just to hear Kurt’s voice again for the first time in almost two months. “Oh. Okay. I’m sure they’ll all be glad to see you.”

“I hope so. Um, I need to get some stuff together before I go to bed. But I’ll email you, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“And we’ll definitely talk soon.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight, Blaine.”

Blaine let his hand drop and stared at the screen for a split second, before he put it back to his ear and blurted out, “Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “It was really good to talk to you.”

He felt the pause more than he heard it. “It was really good talking to you too, Blaine. Look, I really have to run, but stick around after the show on Saturday, we should make sure to plan to get together.”

“That would be really nice.”

“Yeah. Um, I gotta go. But I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Yeah. Saturday.”

 

~~~~

 

**146**

**Blaine** : So are you going to Sweeney Todd this weekend?

 **Sebastian** : No

 **Blaine** : Why not?

 **Sebastian** : How much time do you have? It’s an extensive list.

 **Blaine** : You know what, never mind. It was a stupid question.

 **Sebastian** : Blaine

 **Sebastian** : Oh come on, wonderboy, really?

 **Blaine** : No, it was stupid.  I shouldn’t have even asked.

 **Sebastian** : I’m honestly surprised you would want myself and Kurt in the same building.

 **Sebastian** : Considering the first time he and I talked, we damn near broke the table.

 **Blaine** : You know he told me about the time you talked to him at the Lima Bean. When he was working on that costume design?

 **Sebastian** : Hey I was NICE that day.

 **Blaine** : That’s what he said. You know, I honestly didn’t believe him at the time.

 **Blaine** : I was asking because it would be nice to see you. I don’t think I should go to Dalton any more, since we’re each other’s competition.

 **Sebastian** : Killer, I can think of a million flimsy excuses to drive to your house right now. Not one of them involves being in the same building as your ex boyfriend.

 **Sebastian** : Just say the word. I have nothing but time to kill.

 **Blaine** : Don’t tempt me when I’m mad at you.

 **Sebastian** : Are you always mad at me or is there something specific I’m doing?

 **Sebastian** : Just for future reference.

 **Blaine** : I’m perpetually angry with you, Sebastian, it’s one of very few constant things in my life.

 **Sebastian** : Awesome.

 **Blaine** : What?

 **Sebastian** : Angry sex is the best sex.

 **Blaine** : Goodnight, Sebastian.

 **Sebastian** : Goodnight, killer.

**Sophie** : Wanna be my date to Sweeney Todd? Diane gave me two tickets for Saturday.

 **Sebastian** : Dammit, Sophie.

 **Sophie** : What’d I do?

 

~~~~

 

**147**

When Blaine and Tina arrived at the small building that housed the Constellation Theatre Company, he was nervous. It would be the first time he’d seen Kurt since the breakup, and possibly the last time if he was still planning to move to Chicago. He fidgeted with his clothes as they walked through the parking lot, straightening his bowtie and pulling at the hem of his coat.

Tina, who had been chatting happily about the last time she’d seen a production of “Sweeney,” glanced over at him as they approached the door.

“You okay?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

He managed a weak smile. “Yeah. Just nervous about seeing Kurt, I guess.”

“Don’t be. He invited you, didn’t he? Clearly he wants to see you.”

“I know. It’s just… It’s weird.”

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It’ll be fine. And if it’s not, you can come over to my place and we’ll put on our pajamas, watch movies and eat ice cream for, like, three days. Okay?”

He chuckled and squeezed her hand back. “Okay. I’ll bring the dvds this time.”

“You better, we’ve watched all my Ryan Gosling movies.”

They waited in the small lobby for the rest of the New Directions to arrive. The freshmen weren't expected to show up, since they hadn’t known Kurt, but everyone else had rearranged their schedules to make it.

Blaine wondered how many of the Warblers would come. Though Kurt had attended Dalton for only a few months—and that was two years ago—he knew that Kurt had kept up a friendship with several of the other boys. Nick and Jeff were guaranteed to show up, and Wes and Thad were likely. Trent absolutely _adored_ Kurt, so he wouldn’t miss it. Other than them, though, it was up in the air. He wondered how many tickets Kurt had been given.  If the section ended up being half-empty, that would be a disappointment.

Nick and Jeff were the first to arrive, enveloping Blaine in hugs before introducing themselves to Tina. (Jeff hugged her as well, but that was Jeff for you.) They chatted for a few minutes about nothing serious—Tina half-jokingly trying to get information about their ideas for Regionals, Jeff responding with ridiculous ideas (“We’re thinking Gregorian chants, actually”)—and over the next ten minutes, other members of New Directions and the Warblers arrived. They walked in in pairs or threes--Sam with Artie and Brittany, Thad with Wes (and, not terribly surprisingly, Sophie), followed last by Trent and Dave. They formed small knots of conversation, with the New Directions mostly sticking together except for Sam, who was dragged in to talk with Trent and Jeff. Blaine was pleased when Artie started talking with Dave, who had, until that moment, looked uncomfortable.

Mr. Scheuster came in with Miss Pillsbury, but they stayed toward the edge of the lobby, not wanting to interrupt.

Blaine looked up when Tina tapped on his shoulder. “Fifteen minutes, Blaine, do you wanna go grab our tickets?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, I’ll be right back.”

The elderly woman who sat at the folding table on which a sign saying “tickets” had been hung gave him a huge smile. “Hi, honey, how many?”

“Um, we’re here for Kurt. There are fourteen of us.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping a whole bunch of you would show up. He’s such a sweet boy, but we keep him running around so much that we never get to meet any of his friends.” She pulled an envelope of tickets from her cash box and counted out fourteen, handing them to him with an even bigger smile. “Enjoy the show, sweetie.”

“Thank you.”

He went back over to his friends—all of them—and passed out the tickets, and everyone spent a minute shuffling them all around and switching seats, even though it didn’t really matter. Jeff made a big show of not wanting to sit near Blaine, laughing and playfully shoving him the whole time. It took them so long that by the time they finally filed into the theatre and took their seats (New Directions in one row, the Warblers behind them) they had only a few minutes to chat before the lights dimmed.

Just as the overture began, he saw Jeff waving someone over out of the corner of his eye, and Sebastian, of all people, dropped into the seat next to him.

 

~~~~

 

**148**

The show was good—astonishingly good for a small community theatre. The acting and singing were both top notch. Blaine even had to admit that as jealous as he’d once been of Johnny, he made a fantastic Sweeney. Diane was angelic and sweet as Johanna, even if her speaking voice was still a little grating.

Kurt’s costumes were, of course, astonishing. The whole show looked great, but Blaine had no idea how Kurt had been able to design and sew the entire wardrobe, by himself, on a budget. Throughout the show, he looked for specific details to mention later—Kurt would appreciate it.

There was, of course, the problem of Sebastian being so damn _distracting_. He didn’t actually _do_ anything—though Blaine had half-expected to be felt up during the show—it was just his very presence that seemed to tilt the whole world three degrees to the right. Not enough to screw everything up, but just enough that Blaine noticed.

Sebastian actually ignored Blaine for the entire first act, sitting absolutely silent except to applaud the songs appreciatively. When the lights came up for intermission, Blaine turned and opened his mouth to at least say hello—but was beaten by Sophie, who leaned forward to punch her brother in the shoulder, chastising him for being late. That prompted a good-natured argument between the twins, with Wes joining in, that lasted so long that Blaine gave up on interjecting and turned to talk with Tina and Sam. Sebastian behaved exactly the same way during the second act, and before he knew it the show was over, the lights were coming up, and they were all walking back into the lobby.

Tina immediately took Blaine’s arm and whispered into his ear, “You okay?”

“Huh?” He’d been so spaced out (yes, thinking about Sebastian) that he hadn’t even noticed her walk up.

“Sebastian,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at the boy, who was talking with Jeff and Sophie. “If he tried anything, let me know and I _will_ kick his ass.”

Blaine almost laughed, because the murderous look on Tina’s face would have been hilarious had she not been completely serious. “Down, girl,” he joked, patting her arm. “He didn’t do anything.”

“I believe you, but I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t blame you, but I’m fine. I promise if that changes, you’ll be the first I call to defend my honor.”

She looked pleased with that, so they joined Sam and Artie to wait for the actors (and, eventually, Kurt) to come into the lobby.

They didn’t have to wait long. Diane was the first out, hair still pinned up in her show hairstyle. A group of her friends, who stood nearest the hallway to the dressing rooms, burst into applause. When she’d worked her way through them, she caught sight of Blaine and, with a squeal, threw her arms around him.

“Hi, Blaine! I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Hi, Diane,” he managed to say into her shoulder as she put him back on his feet.

“How are you, sweetie?” Up close, she smelled of stage makeup and a girly, floral perfume.

“I’m good, um, you were amazing!”

She smiled and preened a little, twirling a blonde curl around a finger. “Thank you so much. Though those _dresses_ do half the work, honestly. Kurt should be out any minute, and”—

She was cut off when Sophie tapped on her shoulder, causing another squeal of delight from the actress. Sophie quickly moved in to bustle her away, mouthing a “you’re welcome” over her shoulder to Blaine.

He winked to her, then turned back to Tina, readjusting his clothes where Diane had hugged them out of place. She looked shocked.

“Who in the _world_ was that?”

He chuckled. “That’s Diane. I met her when I visited Kurt in the fall. She’s really sweet, even if she is… overenthusiastic.”

“God, I was listening to her on stage and I really hoped she didn’t sound like that in real life.”

“I know, right?”

He turned back to look down the hallway and there was Kurt.

Seeing him again was a terrible and wonderful combination of all the other times he’d seen him—from their first meeting at Dalton to their solemn breakup at the diner. It was pain and love and joy and everything else, all at once, and he could only hope that when he tried, he’d be able to talk.

Sam got to him first, lifting him up into the air in a hug, which had Kurt laughing and kicking before he leaned down to hug Artie. Blaine watched as the three talked and laughed, Sam and Artie congratulating Kurt and showering him with so much praise that he blushed furiously.

He stopped, though, when his eyes landed on Blaine, and for that split second it was like they were the only two in the room, standing face to face. Kurt smiled that soft, sweet smile and when he walked toward Blaine with his arms open, he was just glad he could remember to smile.

Kurt embraced him with genuine affection. “Blaine! Oh my god, I’m so glad you came!” When they pulled away, Kurt quickly swept Tina up too, so she didn’t feel left out. “So what did you guys think?”

“It was amazing, Kurt, and your costumes,” Tina gushed. “They were incredible. Really. I mean, I knew you were good, but I had no idea!”

“Oh, thank you, sweetie,” he replied, giving her a squeeze around her waist.

“It’s true, Kurt, the costumes were unbelievable,” Blaine added. “Johanna’s dress during ‘Green Finch’—I know I saw the rendering, but you _really_ pulled it off.”

“Oh my _god_ , thank you! That dress was nearly the death of me. It must weigh twenty pounds, I almost feel bad for making Diane wear it.”

They were interrupted by Sam slipping in to talk to Tina, who made a quick apology and stepped to the side. Kurt blew her a kiss, then turned back to Blaine. He was still beaming, though with every passing second, Blaine was realizing more and more than it was post-show adrenaline, not just seeing him. It hurt a little—though not as much as he thought it would.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Kurt’s voice had softened a little as they looked at each other. “It really means a lot to me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Thank you. Look, I have to say hello to a few more people before I go and get all the costumes straightened up before I leave tonight, but can I call or text you tomorrow? I have Monday and Tuesday off, it would be great if we could get dinner or something.”

“Yeah, of course. I’d really like that.”

Blaine felt something bump his elbow at the same time Kurt’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. When he turned around, he found himself face to face with Sebastian, who had backed into him while talking with Diane and Sophie.

“Oh, hey killer, sorry ‘bout that.” He saw Kurt’s expression and gave him an acknowledging nod. “Kurt.”

“Sebastian.” Kurt’s tone could have frozen the air between them. Blaine tensed for what he feared was an inevitable blow-up.

Instead, to his surprise, Sebastian extended his hand. “I know this is supposed to be the part when I bitch and moan about my sister dragging me here, but I have to admit the costumes were impressive.”

Kurt shook the offered hand. “Thank you, Sebastian, I can see that it pains you to say that.”

“It does. Anyway, sorry to interrupt. Congratulations on a great show, Kurt.”

“Thank you.”

Sebastian turned back to talk to his sister, and Blaine didn’t miss the fact that the glare Kurt sent at his back was less venomous than usual.

“Look, I really have to go. But I’ll text you sometime tomorrow, okay?”  
“Sounds good. It was great to see you, Kurt.”

“It was wonderful to see you. Thanks again for coming.”

When they hugged again, it was still warm and affectionate, but it no longer felt like home. And that, surprisingly, was alright.

 

~~~~

 

**149**

Kurt looked good.

No, he looked better than good. Even if all-black (the tech person uniform, he had explained to Dave once) was severe, he still pulled it off with his usual style, with his tailored shirt and obscene high leather boots. Dave’s mouth went dry when he caught a glance of those.

Dave stood back as Kurt talked with Blaine and the other New Directions, exchanging hugs and high fives and huge smiles. He looked so happy, grinning ear to ear, cheeks flushed prettily.

He had to wait so long for Kurt to work his way through all his McKinley friends that he started to feel a little awkward. Trent kept chatting about the show, which he had loved, but at a certain point he noticed the way Dave kept looking at Kurt and elbowed him gently.

“Hey. Earth to Dave. You alright?”

“Sorry. Yeah.” He gently tapped his knuckles against Trent’s hip, which was the closest they ever came to holding hands.

“Kurt looks _awesome_. Wish I could pull off the ‘subtle sexy Goth’ look. I’d probably end up looking like a giant burnt marshmallow.”

Dave snorted back a laugh. “Oh stop.”

“It’s true. You, on the other hand…”

“Not exactly my style.”

“Not at _all_. Though, did I mention, oh my god you’re not in a flannel shirt? Seriously proud of you right now.”

Dave looked down at his plain blue button-up. “Yeah, I really put in the effort tonight.”

“You look hot. In fact…” A devilish grin spread across Trent’s features and he was just about to lean in to whisper something in Dave’s ear when Kurt’s voice interrupted him.

“Dave! Trent! Oh my god, you’re here too?”

They pulled apart, but Trent was still grinning. “I’ll hold that thought,” he murmured before turning to Kurt. “Pumpkin! Hi!”

Kurt giggled and accepted Trent’s hug. “Thanks so much for coming.”

“Of course, sweetheart, we were so excited!”

When Kurt turned to Dave, his smile got even wider. “Hi, Dave, it’s so good to see you.”

He didn’t go for a hug—he knew better than to hope for that—but when Kurt offered his hands, he took them, holding them in an almost-awkward, almost-affectionate way. “It’s good to see you, too. Congratulations on the show.”

“Thank you so much. Though if I’m being totally honest, I can’t wait for it to be over. I never want to see black and white stripes ever again.”

“Any big plans for what’s next? I’m sure these guys are fighting to keep you around.”

Kurt laughed, leaning back so that he tugged gently on Dave’s hands. “They totally are, but I got an offer to work on a show in Chicago. I’m moving right before New Year.”

Dave’s mouth dropped open. That was the first he’d heard of it. “Wow. I mean, that’s great.”

“It is. It’s also terrifying. But, look, do you still have my number? It would be great if we could get dinner or something and catch up at least once before I leave.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. That would be nice.”

“Great. I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I have to make sure the actors didn’t _completely_ destroy their costumes before they left.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do what you need to do.”

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Yeah.” That time, Kurt went in to hug him. He was so surprised that for a split second, he couldn’t even hug him back. He was warm and light and smelled of a cologne Dave didn’t recognize.

Then he was gone, giving a quick high-five to Trent before dashing back toward the dressing rooms.

There was a long pause before Trent said, “He was _the guy_ , wasn’t he?”

Dave swallowed hard. “Uh…yeah.”

“Oh. Well, that _is_ complicated.”

“It’s also over…just, ya know…so we’re clear.”

Trent turned that smile on him. “I know. You ready to get going?”

When they were outside, Dave leaned in to murmur in Trent’s ear, “So what was it you were about to say to me in there?”

Trent winked. “You’ve got a half-hour drive to figure it out.”


	16. Chapter 16

****Warnings** : Okay, all, this is a big one. This is a warning for discussion of (past) domestic violence, homophobic bullying, child abuse, and a suicide attempt. I stayed away from anything graphic, but please be cautious if you think this will bother you. These warnings apply to section 150, and the resulting fallout is dealt with in 151.**

 

**150**

Warnings: Okay, all, this is the big one. This is a warning for discussion of (past) domestic violence, homophobic bullying, child abuse, and a suicide attempt. Again, I stayed away from anything graphic, but please be cautious.

 

It was bitterly cold by the time Blaine walked out into the parking lot. Tina had already accepted a ride back to Lima from Sam so that Blaine didn’t have to drive all the way over there _and_ back to Westerville in a single night. The lot was mostly empty and his breath hung in the air. He jingled his keys in his hand and hoped the roads wouldn’t be icy.

A flicker of light caught his eye and when he looked up from his feet, he saw Sebastian, leaning against his car. He was spaced out, legs casually crossed at the ankle, staring up at the moon. The light that had caught Blaine’s eye was the burning red tip of the cigarette Sebastian held between his fingers.

Blaine made a split–second decision. “Hey.”

Sebastian looked down, momentarily surprised when he saw him approaching. “Oh. Hey.”

“How come you’re hanging around here? It’s freezing.”

Sebastian looked down at the cigarette in his hand, then glanced at Blaine, seemingly self-conscious about being caught smoking. Blaine gave a dismissive ‘whatever’ wave and Sebastian responded with the tiniest shrug. It struck Blaine that they were beginning to understand each other’s gestures.

“I was waiting for you, obviously.”

“Well,” Blaine made a little motion to present himself, “here I am.”

Sebastian grinned. “Indeed.” He took one last drag from the cigarette before dropping it and stubbing it out under his shoe. “I wanted to talk to you. Like I promised.”

“I have time.”

“Good. Get in, I’ll turn the heat on.”

They climbed into the car—Sebastian in the driver’s side, Blaine in the passenger seat—and Sebastian turned the heat on. They waited a few minutes while the car warmed up and Blaine stopped shivering.

“So… Since you wanted to have this conversation, I’m gonna let you go first,” Sebastian finally began.

Blaine looked him over carefully before he started. He was sitting slouched in his seat as if careless, but Blaine could see the tension in his shoulders and jaw. His fingers drummed restlessly on his knee—a dead giveaway that he was nervous.

“I’m not going to yell at you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said gently, hoping to pull Sebastian out of his shell.

He got a frustrated sigh in response. Sebastian shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I’m worried about. You don’t yell. You get all indignant and silent. If you were mad, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Then what are you so anxious about?”

Sebastian drew up a knee and stared resolutely out the windshield. “A _lot_ of things, killer.”

“Sebastian, I can’t have a conversation with you if you keep shutting me out like this. You know what, I’m just gonna go. It isn’t worth it if you’re gonna be like this.” He reached for the door handle, but Sebastian leaned across suddenly and stopped him.

“Blaine. Wait. I’m sorry.” Sebastian’s voice was full of the same rising panic that had colored it when Blaine stormed out of Dalton a few weeks before. It stopped him cold. “Fuck. Killer, you _know_ how much I suck at this.”

“So just _try_.”

“I _am_ , Blaine, don’t you get it? I have never tried this hard for _any_ guy. The fact that I _suck_ and fuck it up all the time is just because I’m an idiot. Not, as you seem to think, that I don’t like you or _want_ you or…” He took a deep breath. “Or anything like that,” he finished lamely.

“So why haven’t you just _told_ me?” Blaine asked, gently. He reached for Sebastian’s hand, but he snatched it away, as if the touch burned.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sebastian, it’s just _me_. It can be that simple.”

“Only you would think so. That’s what’s so frustrating about you, Blaine, you see everything as this great, romantic story but you don’t realize that some people are just fucked up and not worth your time.”

“That’s not true”—

“Yes, it is, Blaine, and if you’d just listen to me”—

“What are you so _afraid_ of?” he demanded, slapping his hands down on his knees. “Why don’t you start with that? Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”

His anger took them both by surprise, but it faded as quickly as it came, replaced with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have”—

“No. You’re right.” Sebastian shifted again, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “You hit it right on the head, as usual.”

“I just don’t understand why. I thought we were friends, and I keep thinking we might be more, but then we end up pushing each other away. I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what you’re feeling. I just want you to tell me.”

“I don’t think you really want to hear it, Blaine.”

“Try me.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop to think about what he was asking. He was on thin ice, at best. He and Sebastian barely ever spoke seriously, and something about this felt dangerous and frightening.

Sebastian took a deep breath. “Fine. You were right. I’m afraid.”

“Of what?” Blaine asked gently.

Another long, deep breath. “I’m absolutely _terrified_ of becoming an abusive asshole like my father.” Blaine opened his mouth to try to comfort him, but Sebastian waved it away. “Don’t even start, Blaine. Don’t pity me. I get enough of that from my mother. But yeah, that’s it.”  
“Sebastian, that’s not who you are.”

“You don’t know that.” He shifted away, refusing to look at Blaine. “Hell, I don’t even know that. The men in my life haven’t _exactly_ been the best role models. What I _do_ know is that when I was eleven, I saw my dad put my mom in the hospital. She divorced him within a month, thank god, but once she went back to Paris it was just the three of us kids. Not even three, Cassie turned eighteen and got the hell out of there. So really, it was only a matter of time before he turned his fists on me. Which, just to clarify, he did. Sophie used to”—without warning, his breath caught in his throat—“She used to call our mom and _sob_ , just _beg_ her to let us live with her, but she couldn’t. Not until I got outed at school and my dad put _me_ in the hospital. I think he’d have killed me if Sophie hadn’t been there.

“I thought everything would be alright after that—Sophie and I moved to Paris to live with our mom, we started high school, I mean honestly things were looking up for us. Until Sophie started dating a guy that treated her exactly like my dad used to treat my mom. She even told me later that she didn’t notice it at first, the way he controlled and manipulated her, because it was all she knew. She didn’t even realize how _wrong_ it was until the first time he hit her, and by that point she was so scared of him she didn’t tell anyone. I was too busy getting drunk and being a fucking idiot to notice, so I was no help. Until one night it all got to be too much for her and she came home and swallowed everything in the medicine cabinet. She was just a fifteen-year-old girl, scared as hell and no one was around to help her. I came home that night and I wanted to talk to her, so I was the first one who found her. If I hadn’t—fuck, I’ve thought about it a million times, if I’d just left her alone that night, she’d have been dead, and that would have been it for me, too.

“And that’s what fucking _kills_ me, Blaine, is that’s all she knows, and that’s all I know. I know how to manipulate people, how to lie, how to bring people down. I see so much of my dad in myself. Hell, he even said as much when I laid out the terms that keep him away from Sophie. I was sixteen and I blackmailed him into buying another fucking _apartment_ so that Sophie could live in that house and be safe. And that terrifies me.” He swallowed hard and finally looked at Blaine. There were tears in his eyes, though he knew he would never see them fall. “I can’t be that guy, Blaine, but no matter what I do, I end up hurting people. I did that to you once. I won’t do it again.”

“Sebastian, I…” When he reached for his hand this time, there was no resistance. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”

“I said I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Sebastian. I can’t _imagine_ how hard it is for you to talk about that.”

It took a long time for Sebastian to respond. The tears were gone, but his voice was husky and rough from keeping them down. “You’re the only besides Sophie one who knows all of it.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Sebastian sighed heavily and turned away. “You don’t _get_ it, do you? I don’t talk about this shit with _anyone_. You think those other guys I’ve screwed around with get to meet my sister? I didn’t even tell the guys at Dalton I _had_ a sister until two weeks after I transferred. But you, I don’t even know what to do with you. You’re different. I trust you. And that scares the hell out of me, because every time I’ve seen someone trust another person, it ends terribly. I can’t do that to you.”

Blaine gripped his hand even tighter. “Sebastian. Look at me, please.” He turned, but refused to meet Blaine’s gaze. “I won’t pretend I know what you’re feeling right now. But I’m honored that you trust me enough to tell me. And I want you to know that over the last couple months I’ve come to care about you, and to trust you. You’re not a bad person. You’re nothing like the person you’re afraid you might become. I wouldn’t be here if you were.” He chuckled, softly, despite himself. “Try as you might, I see who you really are.”

Sebastian finally looked up at him. He was smiling—faintly, but it was there. “And that, Blaine, is why you’re different.”

He smiled back. “I’m glad.”

They didn’t talk much more that night. It got late and it got cold, even in the car, and Blaine knew better than to push Sebastian for more. So they made their excuses and said their goodnights.

But when they leaned in to kiss one last time, it all poured out unspoken. The way Blaine laid his palm over Sebastian’s heart said _I trust you_ and _I’m still here_ and _it’s okay_. The grip Sebastian kept on Blaine’s shoulders said _I want you_ and _keep me_ and _I’m yours_.

The press of their lips, though—the warmth and the depth and the hasty, short breaths—that said everything else they weren’t ready for. And that, for the moment at least, had to be enough.

 

~~~~

 

**151**

It wasn’t until late September in their junior year that Sophie began speaking again. By that time, it had been six months, and Sebastian had long been wondering whether she _could_ speak at all. Whether, unknown to anyone but her, some sort of permanent damage had been done and he would never hear her voice again. He had realized, to his horror, that he was beginning to forget what her voice sounded like. He’d already lost the memories of her singing as she bustled around the kitchen on Sunday mornings, trilling along to whatever song struck her fancy that day. The way she sounded when she yelled, the way the timbre of her voice deepened and trembled when she was angry, were long gone. He felt like a terrible brother, and for weeks had been replaying memories of her in his head, over and over, determined not to lose everything.

He went home every weekend in September, even though he didn’t need to and, except to see Sophie, had no desire to set foot in that house. When the weather was nice they went for walks in a park not too far away, stopping to rest under a huge, old oak tree. Some days he brought lunch and they spent hours lying on the picnic blanket reading books.

One day when it was raining too hard to go outside, with long sheets of water pouring down the windows and the wind howling, they took over the kitchen. Cassie had sent them a proof copy of the recipe book her bakery was putting out the following year, and despite Sebastian’s complete lack of skills, they attempted lemon cupcakes. They were Sebastian’s favorite, and Sophie liked them, too (though she preferred hers with chocolate icing, which Sebastian would _never_ understand).

It was an exercise in patience for both of them. At first, Sebastian tried to fill the silence with a non-stop stream of gossip about people she’d never met, news from Dalton, where she didn’t go, and questions she didn’t answer. Finally, he stopped and let the silence, which had grown more comfortable as he got used to it, fill the space around them. She communicated mostly through gestures and facial expressions, which he had gotten good at understanding. (A raised eyebrow from her told him, at one point, that he was completely fucking up the icing and it was time to back away.)

The cupcakes didn’t turn out perfectly (they never did, neither of them had Cassie’s skill), but they were sweet and light and made them think of summer—not the one they had just passed, locked away in their rooms trying to escape their grief, but of earlier summers where they’d smiled and laughed and wasted endless afternoons. They skipped dinner in favor of splitting the dozen between them.

The rain let up and finally stopped that evening, though they kept all the doors and windows shut because it seemed to make Sophie feel a little safer.

He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a door slamming shut. He sat bolt upright in bed, every nerve stretched into the silence, trying to figure out the source of the sound. It was an old reflex, that _fear_ —that someone was coming for him, and was now engraved deep in his brain.

He sat in silence for a long moment, trying to calm himself down. His father wasn’t home, wouldn’t be coming back, so it couldn’t be him, and no one had ever tried to break in before.

So that left only Sophie. And what could that girl be doing slamming doors? It was unlike her under normal circumstances, but in the past few months was completely out of the question.

He decided to get up and check on her. He knew by now that he didn’t need to, but it always made him feel better. The hardwood floor was cold under his feet as he made his way out to the hall. An early chill had set in, and he could feel it seeping through the old house.

All the doors were closed, including Sophie’s bedroom. The door wasn’t locked (it was never locked, an unspoken agreement between the two of them) and he opened it slowly and quietly so as not to startle her.

Her bed was empty. He scanned the room quickly, just to make sure, but she wasn’t there, so he turned back to the hall. Where could she possibly have gone?

It was then he felt the draft across his feet. It came from under the door across the hall from Sophie’s bedroom, a blast of cold air that whistled with the chill from outside.

The room was supposed to be a guest room, but no one ever stayed there. As kids, they’d made up stories that it was haunted. That night, Sebastian would have almost believed it. It was dark except for the silvery glow of the full moon, and the sheer white curtains billowed and snapped outward from the window like hands. The window had been pushed all the way open, letting in the cool, damp air from outside.

He crossed to the window. It looked out over a narrow shelf, not more than a foot wide, which connected on either side to the wide, angled expanse of the roof. It was still glistening with rain.

Over to one side, Sophie sat on the shingles, the contours of her body highlighted by the moonlight.

Cautiously, Sebastian stepped over the windowsill and out onto the roof. The shingles squished with moisture under his bare feet and were shockingly cold, but he continued, arms outstretched for balance until he reached Sophie and sat down next to her.

They sat like that for a long, silent moment, the only noise that of the wind in the trees at the end of the backyard.

He looked hard at her. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her toes curled under from the chill. She wore only a sleeveless, light as air nightgown, and her hair covered her shoulders and fell, unbound, past her waist. She looked thin, thinner than he’d ever seen her, and, out in the cold air, so vulnerable.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to say something. He wanted to yell at her, shake her, beg her to speak to him. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her.

But he couldn’t. So he sat next to her, knees drawn up like hers, and waited.

She stirred after a while, and the sudden flash of hope rose in his chest as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

“Please don’t tell anyone I know how to get out here. They’d worry.”

Her voice was lower than he remembered, husky from six months of disuse, but it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He reached over and squeezed one of her hands, which was wrapped around her leg.

“Of course not. Our secret.”

She smiled a little, then leaned over to put her head on his shoulder. “I love you, big brother.”

Hearing her say that for the first time in endless months, he felt something in his chest open up, like a lock had been undone. He turned his head and kissed her hair. “I love you too.”

 

~~~~

 

**152**

Dave couldn’t believe they were actually _there_.

It had taken all his courage to ask Trent to go on a date with him, and he’d still stammered half of it. (Trent laughed and reminded him, “Dave, it’s _me_ , chill out.”) His nerves had steadily frayed as Sunday approached, and by the time he was walking over to Trent’s room to see if he was ready to go, he didn’t think it was possible to get any more nervous. He was wrong.

The car ride to the park helped. Trent jumped into the passenger seat and immediately seized control of Dave’s ipod, declaring his taste in music “acceptable, for now” and blasting classic Bruce Springsteen at full volume. They sang along as loud as they could, dancing so enthusiastically at red lights that other drivers stared.

By the time he had his skates laced up, though, his nerves were back and worse than ever. He was out on a date. With another guy. In _Ohio_. It would be one thing at Dalton, surrounded by their supportive friends, but this was the freaking _public_.

He realized he’d spaced out from total fear when Trent smacked his arm playfully. “You ready to go?” He smiled. “Because I’m _totally_ not.”

Dave smiled back. “What? _You_ , worried about something?”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing, I’m actually _scared._ It’s like the planets are out of alignment”—

Trent smacked his arm again, but he was laughing. “Stop it!”

“I’m just saying, when you get worried it must be because the world is ending or something.”

Trent went to hit him again, but Dave caught his hand. They struggled for a second, laughing, before they both realized that they were pretty much holding hands in public. They blushed and separated, suddenly self-conscious.

Dave chuckled and hauled himself to his feet, standing easily in his worn-in hockey skates. “Alright. Now or never.”

Trent made a show of bracing himself before he stood. The rental skates were probably too small and uncomfortable, making the already difficult task of balancing even more complicated. He stood with his arms just a little bit out, hands making little unconscious fluttering motions as he swayed slightly. Dave resisted the urge to steady him and was rewarded with Trent’s triumphant, ear-to-ear grin when he finally found his footing.

“Dude, if you have this much trouble standing right now, I’m worried about what you’re gonna be like out on the ice.”

Trent frowned. “Don’t you ‘dude’ me. I got this.”

By the time they got to the ice, though, the confidence was gone, and when Dave stepped out, he turned back and saw the look of pure fear on Trent’s face. “Don’t laugh at me when I fall and bust my ass, okay?”

He couldn’t resist the urge to take his hand. “I won’t. Come on.”

It was so much fun that Dave forgot to check if people were staring. Trent was like Bambi learning to walk, feet and knees never going in the same direction at once. He kept a tight grip on Dave’s arm for the first half hour, occasionally tugging him one way or another as his feet slipped, but never once did they stop smiling.

Trent fell for the first time after an impressive forty-five minutes, landing flat on his butt with an “Ow!” Dave chuckled and turned to him, offering his hands.

“You okay?”

Trent laughed and looked up at him, still splayed out on the ice. “Stop making it look so _easy_.”

“It _is_ easy, babe.”

Trent hit away Dave’s proffered hands and struggled to his feet on his own, tottering forward a half-step before throwing his arms in the air in victory.

“ _Told_ you.”

Trent huffed indignantly and muttered a “shut up” before grabbing a fistful of Dave’s sweatshirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

Dave panicked for a split second, but it was so warm and sweet and sincere that he found himself sinking into it. He slipped his arms around Trent’s waist, able to ignore, if only for a few seconds, the part of his brain that was absolutely terrified.

Despite all his worst fears, he was out on a date. He was kissing another guy. And no one said anything. The world didn’t end.

When they finally needed to catch their breath, they stood, still in each other’s arms, foreheads tilted together, and Trent smiled up at him.

“Best. First date. Ever.”

 

~~~~

 

**153**

Blaine was worried about going back to school on Monday. He’d managed to avoid Sam at the New Directions party after he’d accidentally caught Blaine kissing Sebastian, so he had no idea whether his friend actually _knew_ what he saw. He as hoping the answer was no.

Sam didn’t mention anything in their first period math class. In fact, he sat next to Blaine just like he’d been doing for the last few weeks, making inappropriate jokes under his breath in hopes of getting a laugh. At lunch, they sat together with the rest of the New Directions, tossing around song ideas. Some people stared when Artie burst into an impressive verse of “Fly me to the Moon,” but a few applauded, as well.

He knew it was coming when they got out of their last class of the day and headed for the choir room. Sam was doing his “preparing for a big speech” routine, the one where he took deep breaths, shifted his books from arm to arm, and practiced a couple of important lines. (Blaine could see his lips moving just a hair.)

Blaine smiled a little. His friend tried _so_ hard. “Something on your mind, Sam?”

Sam smiled sheepishly. “How do you always know, dude? It’s weird.”

Blaine chuckled. “You do this little—you know what, never mind. What’s going on?”

They stopped in their usual spot around the corner from the choir room. Other students were still passing by, getting their coats and bags as they prepared to leave. Sam and Blaine both leaned back against the window, letting the hall clear out. It took only a few minutes—they had hit the point in the year where everyone just wanted to get the hell out at the end of the day, except, of course, for those who had clubs to go to. They waved to Brittany and Tina as they passed by. Both girls stopped to chat, but Blaine just told them they’d be along in a minute and to get rehearsal started without them. (“Don’t let Artie pick songs without us,” Sam added as the girls walked away. “No, seriously.”)

“So,” Sam began when they were finally alone in the hall. “I don’t really know how to say this without coming across like I’m mad at you or something, so before I say anything, I’m not mad at you.”

Blaine grinned. “Thank you, Sam, that’s very comforting.”

“But. Um. The guy at the Sectionals party.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I know.”

Sam took a deep breath and braced himself. “Was it that Sebastian guy?”

Blaine feigned the confidence he didn’t really feel. “Yeah, it was,” he answered, challenging.

There was a pause as they sized each other up. Sam was clearly surprised—not just by the situation, but by Blaine’s sudden, honest admission as well.

Blaine folded first, looking down at his shoes. “Don’t tell anyone?”

“Dude, it’s your business, I’m not gonna tell anyone anything.”

“Thanks. I just don’t want to cause any drama. I mean, he and I aren’t…well, we’re not really _anything_ right now. And everyone thinks he’s terrible, but really, you have to know that he’s not.”

“I trust your judgment, dude. It’s just, you know, I’m worried. I know you said he’s different, but I only know him as a jerk, right? And with you just getting over breaking up with Kurt, I just wanna make sure you’re not gonna get hurt again.”

“It’s not like that.”

“I hope not.” Sam squeezed Blaine’s shoulder and tilted his head down so they could look at each other. “Because if he hurts you, I don’t give a _fuck_ about all that Dalton chivalry shit. I _will_ kill him.”

They looked at each other for a second before a snort of laughter bubbled up in Blaine’s chest and they both broke, laughing so hard that the last other person in the hallway looked at them sideways and walked away quickly.

“You’re a terrifying man, Sam.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Blaine wiped a tear away with the back of his hand. “But seriously, I appreciate the sentiment. Between you and Tina, I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Tina is _scary_ when she’s mad, isn’t she?” Sam slapped Blaine’s back as they turned to walk back toward the choir room. “I don’t think I ever told you this, but last year, I asked Sugar out on a date and Tina gave me a twenty minute speech about how to properly treat a lady.”

“Seriously?” Blaine thought about that for a second. He could _totally_ see it. “Damn, Tina means _business_.”

“Yeah, and after all that, Sugar totally came back and said no.”

“That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah. But I guess it’s for the best.” Sam paused, biting his lower lip, and Blaine couldn’t have been imagining the faint blush that spread across Sam’s cheeks. “Cause you know… If you’re close with Sebastian, maybe you could get me the inside info on that sister of his?”

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly. “She’s taken, Sam, and she’s a bit of a handful, anyway.”

“Oh. Um, I guess this is the part where I do an impression and make you laugh and you can forget I ever asked you that question?”

“Sure. Do your worst.”

“Dude, you can’t _handle_ my worst.”

 

~~~~

 

**154**

**Sebastian** : You should come back to rehearsal.

 **Blaine** : 1. Hello. 2. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

 **Sebastian** : 1. Hi. (Is this becoming a thing?) 2.  Yes it is. All my ideas are good ideas.

 **Blaine** : But we’re each other’s COMPETITION, remember?

 **Sebastian** : We’re not even working on Regionals yet

 **Sebastian** : Hell we’re not even going to bother picking songs for another week

 **Blaine** : The guys will think I’m spying

 **Sebastian** : Blaine, it’s YOU.

 **Sebastian** : Even if you HAD skills as a spy—which you don’t—you’re far too honorable and noble and stuff like that to even consider it.

 **Blaine** : While that’s true, I still think it’s unfair.

 **Sebastian** : I mean I’d offer to come you McKinley and spy on your friends, but...

 **Sebastian** : Let’s list all the reasons why that’s a terrible idea, shall we?

 **Sebastian** : Just for reference, there are 136 reasons why that’s a bad idea.

 **Blaine** : Now you’re just being ridiculous.

 **Sebastian** : Look, come to rehearsal. Don’t make me beg or get all sappy.

 **Blaine** : Sappy? Hold on, this sounds like fun.

 **Sebastian** : No

 **Blaine** : Oh, come on. If you REALLY want to see me at rehearsal you’d at least let me know why.

 **Sebastian** : I want to fuck you in the library

 **Blaine** : I’m turning my phone off.

 **Sebastian** : Ugh Blaine don’t do this to me.

 **Sebastian** : Blaine?

 **Sebastian** : Seriously??

 **Blaine** : I’m mad at you.

 **Sebastian** : You are so lucky you’re cute.

 **Blaine** : Spill.

 **Sebastian** : Fine. I want to see you.

 **Blaine** : Not good enough.

 **Sebastian** : Fine. You never get to repeat this to anyone.

 **Blaine** : My lips are sealed.

 **Sebastian** : I want to see you because I actually like hanging out with you.

 **Sebastian** : I like how perfectly fucking happy you are when you’re here.

 **Blaine** : Getting closer.

 **Sebastian** : If you tell anyone I said this, I WILL deny it.

 **Sebastian** : But being around you makes me happy.

 **Blaine** : I um…coming from you, that’s something.

 **Sebastian** : Seriously? “Something?”

 **Blaine** : You know what I mean.

 **Sebastian** : Did I earn the honor of your presence?

 **Blaine** : Maybe ;)

 **Sebastian** : Dammit Blaine

 **Blaine** : Look I have to run, I’m getting coffee with Kurt.

 **Sebastian** : This feels familiar.

 **Blaine** : Don’t be that way. For god’s sake, he’s moving out of state in a couple weeks.

 **Blaine** : I’ll be seeing you Thursday.

 **Sebastian** : For the record, I didn’t actually mean it that way…but alright.

 **Sebastian** : If I get to see you, that means I win.

 **Blaine** : Thursday.

 **Sebastian** : Thursday.

 

~~~~

 

**155**

**Trent** : Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

 **Trent** : Get to my room in an hour or less with a map of campus, a set of walkie-talkies, Nick, and all the glitter the two of you can carry.

 **Trent** : Also balloons.

 **Trent** : Just a fucking TON of balloons.

 **Jeff** : Okay, one, coincidentally I happen to have all of those things on hand

 **Trent** : I knew I could count on you

 **Jeff** : Two, I am SO glad I’m on your good side. You’re freakin scary.

 **Trent** : And damn proud of it.

 **Trent** : Get your sexy ass over here.

 **Jeff** : I’ll be nice and not let Nick see that last one.

 **Trent** : Whatever. I can take him.

Exactly fifty-four minutes later, Jeff and Nick showed up at Trent’s room with their supplies to find Trent, Thad, and an extremely confused Dave Karofsky already there. (“Dude, I’m not so sure about this,” Dave said to Jeff as they set up. “Trent says they’re just hazing the new guys, but I’m kind of a new guy. So if this is the part he’s letting me see, I’m worried about the rest of it.”)

Trent seemed to have everything planned down to the last detail already and set each of them to their tasks: Dave to filling the balloons (though he regretted that immediately, as Dave would blow them up only to send them flying at him), Thad to making the glitter bomb, Jeff to planning two treasure maps, and Nick as a runner, setting up elements of the prank. Trent, meanwhile, seemed to have no other job than bossing everyone around, which was, after all, what he was best at.

Jeff only had to begin the first map to start to smile. Over the last two weeks, he’d slowly, bit by bit, begun to feel a little better. Nothing was fixed, of course—though he’d gotten two calls from his mother, they’d ended with the both of them crying and nothing resolved. At least she was trying to fix the situation, like she’d promised, but if he’d heard her say “I love you” one more time he’d have thrown his phone across the yard. That had been a bad night.

He kept it a closely guarded secret, though, having told only Sebastian. Despite all his flaws, he could keep his mouth shut.  So there was no _possible_ way that Trent could have known, even with his self-proclaimed “spy skills.”

And yet, there he was in Trent’s room, ink smudges up to his elbow as he drew a map of Dalton’s campus, grinning like an idiot. Trent seemed to have a way of just _knowing_ how to make others feel better. He’d seen it before—Blaine needed to be encouraged, so Trent flattered and teased and played the piano for him to sing along to. Sophie needed to be held and spoken to gently, while Dave responded best to snark and playful banter.

Jeff, on the other hand, needed to be distracted. Nick was good at keeping his mind off the heavy stuff in life, constantly ready with a stack of Disney movies, junk food, and encouraging words. (And, more recently, kisses. That went a long way toward helping Jeff feel better.) Trent seemed to know it too, so it was not surprising that he’d been invited to help with the prank.

He was also _really freaking good_ at drawing maps, which was why they planned so many treasure hunts for the new guys. Trent was in charge of planning the actual items, but Jeff was _all over_ the maps.

He was halfway done with sketching the dining hall when a teddy bear dropped onto the table in front of him. It was small—only about eight inches tall—but so overstuffed it was practically round. And it was clutching a stuffed heart.

His eyes went wide. He knew he should be embarrassed by his childish love of stuffed animals, but he was _born_ to cuddle. It wasn’t like he’d brought any of them to Dalton. That would have been stupid.

(Okay. There was one. But since it lived under his bed, it hardly counted.)

He already had it in his arms when he looked up and saw Trent smiling down at him. “What’s this for?” he asked, mouth half-buried in the bear’s fur.

Trent giggled and mussed his hair. “You looked like you could use a cuddle.”

“Um, _excuse you_ ,” Nick interrupted from across the room, “I’m his boyfriend, _I_ do all the cuddling here.”

“But _Nicky_ ,” Jeff whined, holding the stuffed animal out to him, “look at it.”

Nick rolled his eyes fondly for what felt like the hundredth time already that day and turned back to his work helping Thad with the glitter bomb.

Jeff smiled up at Trent. “Thanks, Mama Duck.”

Trent wrinkled his nose at the nickname. “You’re gonna regret that later, Sterling.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and thought no more of it for the rest of the afternoon. He finished the map and passed it off to Thad, Dave, and Nick, who went to complete the set up. It was going to be a hell of a day for two freshmen.

When it was just him and Trent in the room, cleaning up, Trent finally asked. “Everything okay with you, Jeff?”

He gritted his teeth and looked down at the art supplies in his hands. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to have that conversation. Even though Trent would take care of him and try to make him feel better, just thinking about it made his heart clench.

“No. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” A pair of arms slid around his waist from behind. “But I’m gonna cuddle you just the same.”

Jeff smiled. “Thanks, Mama Duck.”

Trent groaned into his shoulder. “I am going to get you to drop that nickname someday, so help me god.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

Trent squeezed him, earning a giggle, then pulled him in tighter. Jeff wrapped his arms over Trent’s and sank into the hug, feeling his heart slow from the frantic, panicked pace it had kept up for weeks.

They were still wrapped up like that when the other boys came back. Nick snapped his fingers at Trent and waved him away, tilting his face up to give Jeff a kiss on the cheek. They both caught the apologetic glance that Trent sent Dave, but they pretended they didn’t, and they _definitely_ saw Dave glance around quickly before giving Trent a shy, chaste peck on the cheek.

Nick looked completely stunned, but Jeff just gave him a “told you” look.

“So, everything set up?” he asked, changing the subject before Nick could open his mouth.

“Uh, yeah.” Nick grinned up at him wickedly. “Those freshmen won’t know what hit them.”

“Awesome. Wanna go get lunch? I’m starving.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked out with their arms comfortably around each other’s’ waists, taking a quick detour back to their dorm room so Jeff could drop off his art supplies.

“So…” Nick began, “Trent and Dave, huh?”

Jeff couldn’t help but grin. “I know, right? And about damn time, too, if you ask me.”

“They’re gonna be adorable if Trent just keeps calm. You know how he is.”

Nick chuckled as they stopped outside their door and fished for his keys. “Yeah, he’s worse than you.”

“Oh, stop.”

Three pounds of glitter dropped on their heads with a _whump_. Jeff shrieked, Nick squawked, and _everything_ was suddenly covered in rainbow sparkles. The two boys stared at each other for a moment—mercifully none of it had gotten in their eyes—before Jeff took a deep breath.

“TRENT FREAKING NIXON I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

 

~~~~

 

**156**

**Kurt** : Lima Bean?

 **Blaine** : Lima Bean.

 **Kurt** : 7 okay for you? My day off turned out to be not-so-off.

 **Blaine** : Sounds good to me.

He wasn’t as nervous as he’d thought he’d be, which was a small mercy. He strode in with what he hoped was an air of confidence, surveying the small coffee shop for a familiar head of brown hair. When he didn’t see Kurt, he went up to the counter and got a coffee for each of them before picking a table that was far enough toward the back to be private while still within sight of the door.

He checked his phone and saw no new messages, so he figured Kurt was just running a few minutes late from whatever duties he had at the theatre. He fiddled with it for a few seconds, following up with Tina about an unplanned rehearsal session and responding to Sam’s myriad questions (“No, you may not give Sebastian the Shovel Talk.” “I voted for showtunes, don’t look at me.” “Captain America, OBVIOUSLY”).

The conversations trickled off, but the minutes kept rolling by. He checked the time, thought about texting Kurt, decided against it (he was probably driving), and drank his coffee until it started to get cool.

It was 7:45 when Kurt finally walked in the door in a flustered burst of cold air. He glanced around, caught Blaine’s eye and smiled, crossing the shop in a few long strides. He unwound his patterned red scarf and tossed it casually over the back of the chair across from Blaine.

“Hey. Sorry I’m so late. Let’s just say Diane owes me no end of favors.” He sat, casually crossing his legs at the knee like he always did.

“It’s alright. I got you coffee, but…I’m not sure it’s any good anymore.”

Kurt groaned. “Oh my god, you _have_ been waiting forever.”

Blaine tried to give a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, really. I figured you had something to do at the theatre.”

“I did, but I really wanted to see you. And now this place closes in, what, fifteen minutes? And I haven’t seen you in _months_.”

“Kurt, it’s okay.” Blaine reached across to squeeze his hand. It was an old gesture, one he used to use to get Kurt to relax when he fretted too much. Kurt recognized it and smiled, squeezing back.

“Thank you.”

Blaine smiled. “It’s not like this is _it_.” He felt his nose wrinkling with wry humor. “I hear about this awesome thing called Skype. Plus, did you know phones work both ways now?”

Kurt chuckled. “You’re ridiculous. I’m really going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but this is a great opportunity. You’ve earned it.”

Kurt smiled and straightened up a little, preening. “Yes I have.”

“And after this, who knows what’s next? It’s all up from here.”

Kurt covered Blaine’s hand with his. “I’m so grateful to you, Blaine. Really. If you hadn’t always been there for me—you were so supportive, and so wonderful, every step of the way.”

The smile Blaine gave him was soft and warm. “Well. I’m glad you let me be a part of it.” He glanced up at the barista, who was cleaning the counter for the second time and sending them pointed looks. “I think we better get moving, though, before they throw us out.”

Kurt followed his gaze to the barista. He stuck his tongue out at her, then gave her a smile and a quick wave. “One of Diane’s friends,” he explained when he saw Blaine’s raised eyebrow, standing and beginning to re-wrap his scarf. Blaine followed his lead, bundling himself into his coat. It had been a cold, snowy afternoon, and he wasn’t looking forward to his long drive home on the slick roads.

“So, you’re around for a couple more weeks, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not moving until the twenty-ninth,” Kurt answered as he buttoned his jacket. “I’m sorry today was such a bust. Once the show closes, though, I’d like to see you at least once more. If nothing else than to make it up to you for stranding you here for almost an hour.”

He smiled. “You still know how to reach me?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I assume passenger pigeon is acceptable?”

“I prefer telegram, but that’ll do.”

 

~~~~

 

**157**

He could hear singing twenty feet down the hall, even through the closed doors. He’d thought long and hard about whether he really wanted to go to Warbler rehearsal—they _were_ competition, after all—but the minute he heard everyone’s voices, he knew he’d made the right choice. Before they were his rivals, the Warblers were his friends.

He walked into the middle of a full-blown, incredible rendition of “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours.” Everyone was up on their feet in a huge circle, dancing and singing with all their might. Every few lines, someone would break into the center for a dance solo.

He had taken only two steps into the room when Trent, without missing a beat, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in. He caught Sebastian’s eye and the other boy gave him a wink. A few of the guys slapped his back and Sophie, who was on the other side of the circle, blew him a kiss. He grooved along and found his place in the arrangement, satisfied to sit back and watch his friends having a blast.

He was impressed with how much better their dancing continued to get. One of the freshmen cartwheeled into the center of the circle, then knocked out an amazing aerial backflip that disrupted the song for nearly a minute with everyone’s cheers and yelling. He blushed and looked ready to die from embarrassment, but grinned ear-to-ear regardless.

When the song got back on track, Sophie was the first to jump into the circle. Her first move—a slow, sexy hip circle—drew whistles, and she rolled her eyes. “I can’t _hear_ you,” she yelled, prompting a chorus of laughter and appreciative shouting. Nick stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled as she continued, shaking and shimmying like a pro, feeding off the energy of everyone’s eyes on her.

Her moves were interrupted when Jeff dashed into the circle and grabbed her hands. With a wink and a smile, he pulled her into a fast, sharp swing routine. He dipped and twirled her with practiced ease, the two of them giggling as everyone went nuts.

Their reaction was nothing compared to how they shouted when Jeff pulled Sophie to his side and flipped her, end over end, in a tight somersault. She was already laughing, flushed with excitement, as her feet landed on the floor. They took a bow and hugged as the song ended, everyone cheering and yelling like complete idiots.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Sebastian’s voice cut through the chaos and everyone turned to face him, half-expecting that he was going to yell at Jeff for something.

Sebastian was stunned nearly speechless. He waved his hands at Jeff for a second as if unable to come up with words. Finally, he blurted out, “And you’re _not_ applying to Julliard?!”

“Wait, what?” Trent piped up from over Jeff’s shoulder. “Since _when_?”

Jeff blushed and looked down at his feet. “Guys, stop.”

Sebastian turned to his sister, still just as flustered. “Soph, you told me you were working on it.”

“I _was_.”

“Jeff, seriously, you _have_ to apply,” Sebastian insisted. “I mean, have you _seen_ yourself dance? They’d be idiots to reject you.”

Jeff looked up at them all then, his grin lighting up his whole face. “Well, it’s a good thing I sent in my application yesterday, huh?”

He didn’t have time for another word, as Sophie shrieked and tackled him, peppering his cheeks and forehead with kisses. He squawked and flailed before grabbing her playfully and flipping them both over so she lay on the floor. She tried to kiss him again, but he rolled his eyes and pulled back.

“Sophie, cut it out.”

“I can’t help it,” she yelled, both arms in the air. “I’m so excited! We’re going to Julliard!”

“We haven’t gotten accepted yet,” Jeff sighed as he stood and pulled Sophie to her feet, the both of them readjusting their uniforms.

“Oh yes, Jeff, they’re going to reject the cute, incredibly talented guy who helped choreograph his show choir’s national championship routine.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow at Sophie. “Nationals? Really?”

She winked. “Suck it.”

“Sophie, I can’t _possibly_ pay for it anyway, and there’s the audition”—

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, making him laugh. “We will worry about that _later_. In the meantime, I need to teach you some ballet, don’t I?”

He leaned his head on her shoulder. “Yeah, that would be kind of awesome.”

Trent “aaw’ed” and shoved them gently aside, then turned to face Blaine, hands on hips. The sheer volume of attitude rolling off him made Blaine swallow hard, suddenly nervous.

“While those two are sickeningly adorable, there’s a slightly bigger issue at hand here.” He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the group, who had assembled around him, leaving Blaine alone on the floor. “You all wanna help me out here?”

The chorus was deafening. “SPY!”

 

~~~~

 

**158**

Trent carried him over to the couch and he stayed there for the next hour, afraid of being dumped somewhere else if he tried to move. Sebastian sat casually on one side of him, feet up on a coffee table, while Jeff piled on at his other side, talking excitedly with Nick and Sophie, who arranged themselves precariously on the arm and back of the couch, Nick’s arm around Sophie to keep her from slipping.

 “So, you’re okay with sending your sister off to New York without you?”

Sebastian turned so they faced each other. They were suddenly so close that Blaine’s breath caught in his chest for a split second.

“Who said anything about her going without me? I may not be headed to Julliard, but I hear there _are_ other colleges.”

“Well—I mean, yeah, I just didn’t know you were applying out in New York.”

“Someone has to look after my sister.” He nodded his head over at Sophie, who was giggling and flirting with Nick, Jeff, and Wes simultaneously. “Otherwise she’ll sleep with half the school.”

Blaine wrinkled his nose at him. “And _you_ ’ _d_ be the one to stop her?”

Sebastian smirked. “Hell, no. I’d be the one telling her to go for the other half.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I’m changing the subject, because I _really_ don’t want to think about that. So what happened to you this week? I finally agreed to text you as much as you want, and you went and disappeared on me.”

“Oh yeah. That was my bad. There’s been a lot going on around here lately.”

Blaine saw Sebastian’s eyes flick past him, and when he looked, he realized Sebastian had been looking at Jeff. He was confused—he had an idea that Jeff and Sebastian were friends, but didn’t consider them especially close. And besides, Jeff seemed just fine.

“Is something wrong with Jeff?” he asked, quietly so no one would overhear.

“He’s had a rough time lately, yeah.”

“With Julliard, or…?”

“No,” Sebastian replied, fidgeting, clearly getting a little uncomfortable. “Unfortunately, it’s a lot more serious than that. I don’t think he’d appreciate me telling you, though. He’s trying to keep it under wraps. You know how he is.”

“Yeah. Wow. Poor guy.” He paused for a moment and let it sink in. “I didn’t know you guys were that close.”

“You could try having some faith in me, killer, honestly.”

“I meant he’s lucky to have you around,” he responded with a small grin and a tap of his elbow on Sebastian’s side.

Sebastian looked away, trying to repress the grin that wanted to spread across his face, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. When he finally turned back, his smile made warmth rise up in Blaine’s chest. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“I take pride in it, actually.”

He wanted to come up with something clever to say, but the buzz of his phone in his back pocket sent his thoughts scattering. It was a text message from his father, demanding to know where he was. When he checked the time, he realized that he’d stayed much later than he planned. Even if he got back in the car immediately, he’d still miss dinner.

He sighed heavily, dread already welling up at the prospect of getting another lecture. They’d been coming more frequently of late—he was never home, largely due to the long drive back and forth from McKinley, but if he was being totally honest, he found reasons to be out. He didn’t _really_ need to study with Tina every evening after Glee practice, but somehow he always found himself picking her up and taking her to the Lima Bean rather than heading home.

“Everything alright?” Sebastian asked, his voice low. Blaine felt his fingers brush his sleeve tentatively.

“I should probably get going.”

“I was thinking of wrapping things up, anyway.”

“No, I really need to”—He started to stand, but Sebastian’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Hang back for a minute?”

The look of hopeful nervousness on Sebastian’s face had Blaine back on the couch without another word, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He stretched and uncrossed his legs, straightening his tie.

“Alright, everyone, time to clear out. If I hang around you any longer I might start to suck just as much as the rest of you.”

The group groaned, and Trent swatted at the back of Sebastian’s head playfully, but they filed out of the room all the same. Blaine watched them go in small groups of two or three—Dave, Trent and Beatz cracking jokes, Nick and Jeff holding hands, Wes with his arm around Sophie’s waist. (She looked back and winked at her brother conspiratorially.)

Then they were alone in the room, still pressed together on the couch, the warmth from where their legs touched seeming to radiate all the way through Blaine’s body.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Blaine asked as the door finally clicked shut.

“I um… I wanted to ask you something,” Sebastian began, running a hand through his hair. Blaine knew instantly what that gesture meant.

“Sebastian Smythe, you’re _nervous_.” He couldn’t hide the delight in his voice.

Sebastian huffed and fixed his hair again. “I am no such thing.”

Blaine swung his legs up so he sat on his knees on the couch, leaning down toward Sebastian. “Oh my god, you _are_. It’s all over your face. You’re even _blushing_.” Sebastian bit his lower lip to suppress his smile, looking down at his knees. Blaine continued teasing—he was so blown away by the idea of Sebastian being shy that he couldn’t help it. “My god, I didn’t know you _could_ blush.”

Sebastian turned to look up at him, then leaned in, his hand reaching out to cup Blaine’s face. “Shut up,” he whispered softly against Blaine’s lips, then brought him in for a warm, sweet kiss. Blaine smiled into it and kissed back, leaning in so that one hand rested just above Sebastian’s knee. Sebastian slipped his free hand around his waist and tried to pull him in closer, but Blaine backed away. “Nuh uh,” he insisted in between kisses. “You never answered my question.”

Sebastian kept kissing him. “This is more fun. God, I could do this _forever_.”

The prospect was so delicious that Blaine moaned a little. “Don’t tempt me.”

“God, please let me,” Sebastian whispered, trying to slide his hands around Blaine’s hip again.

“Sebastian, not right now, someone might walk in.” He gently but firmly put a hand against Sebastian’s chest and he pulled back, pouting a little. Blaine soothed it with another kiss, quicker that time. “Another time,” he promised, which brightened Sebastian up considerably. “Now, why did you ask me to stay back?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Well,” Blaine spread his hands out, presenting the opportunity. “Ask away.”

Sebastian took a deep, calming breath before speaking. “Can I take you out sometime? I mean, for real. Not in an attempt to get in your pants this time.”

It took a second for the question to sink in, and when it did, disbelief hit Blaine full-force. “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“I don’t know. What’s your answer?”

He thought it over for a second, letting it roll around in his mind. It made his heart flutter like it wanted to escape. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.”

The quick response threw Sebastian off. His eyes went wide and his mouth moved a little, trying to form a sentence. “I. Wow. Okay. I’ll pick you up at six?”

Blaine smiled and darted in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Sounds good to me. But in all seriousness, I really have to get going. So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Sebastian was still too stunned to respond with his usual snark. “Yeah. Great. See you then.”

Blaine stood and started to leave, but when the idea came over him he couldn’t resist—he turned and dashed back, leaning in to press a solid, possessive kiss on Sebastian’s mouth. He didn’t bother to explain, just broke away and walked out. Maybe, just _maybe_ , he let his ass swing a little more than usual as he walked.

He closed the door too soon to see Sebastian’s victory dance.

 

~~~~

**159**

**Sebastian** : I have never been this nervous in my entire life.

 **Sebastian** : Can this be fatal? I feel like I’m dying.

 **Sophie** : You are such a twelve year old girl

 **Sebastian** : Stop it

 **Sophie** : Oh no, you’ve been making fun of me for years, it’s my turn now

 **Sebastian** : Oh fuck everything. You are such a bitch.

 **Sophie** : I learned from the best.

 **Sebastian** : This is not helping. I may actually have a stroke.

 **Sophie** : Okay, step one, calm the fuck down.

 **Sebastian** : Not helping

 **Sophie** : Step two, do you have a plan?

 **Sebastian** : Of course not

 **Sophie** : Well, you’re fucked.

 **Sebastian** : SOPHIE

 **Sophie** : Ugh you are gonna owe me so big for this. When are you picking him up?

 **Sebastian** : Six.

 **Sophie** : Dinner?

 **Sebastian** : Maybe?

 **Sophie** : The coffee place we love in Westerville. Casual. I’ll call and make your reservation.

 **Sophie** : Forewarning, it will be under Dumbass McDouchebag.

 **Sebastian** : That’s fair.

 **Sophie** : Followed by…?

 **Sebastian** : I don’t know I’ve never planned a date before

 **Sophie** : Movie

 **Sebastian** : Maybe

 **Sophie** : Theatre?

 **Sebastian** : No

 **Sophie** : Ice skating

 **Sebastian** : Oh fuck no

 **Sophie** : Movie. Skyfall. Daniel Craig.

 **Sebastian** : You’re a genius.

 **Sophie** : 7:30.

 **Sebastian** : I love you. What do you want in return?

 **Sophie** : Three things

 **Sebastian** : Ugh fine

 **Sophie** : One: leave Wes alone. He’s sweet and he really loves me.

 **Sophie** : Two: you must say or do three nice things for Trent.

 **Sebastian** : What

 **Sophie** : Three: You must be nice and NOT FUCK THIS UP.

 **Sophie** : I’m going to verify all these things with Wes, Trent, and Blaine, so you better come through.

 **Sebastian** : I need to go get dressed. You’re a genius and a wonderful sister.

 **Sophie** : Go for casual sexy.

 **Sophie** : Emphasis on casual. Try not to look like you just got a blow job in a bar bathroom.

 **Sebastian** : Do not ever text something like that to me ever again.

 **Sophie** : The dark green henley shirt ought to work. **  
**

 **Sebastian** : God I’m so nervous I may actually die

 **Sophie** : Stop texting and get driving. You’ll be fine.

 **Sophie** : You’re a baby. Just btw.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Warnings in this chapter:  Discussion of Jeff getting kicked out, and Blaine’s fear of the same, in 166.**

 

**160**

Blaine had been dressed and ready for an hour, but he certainly didn’t spend the entire time staring anxiously at his phone, _willing_ it to ring.

He spent the hour sitting on his bed, reading a book for his English class. His silent phone drove him so crazy that he finally had to limit himself to checking it once after every page he finished reading (as opposed to every ten seconds). By the time Sebastian finally texted to let him know he was on his way, he’d read twenty pages and absorbed exactly none of it.

After getting Sebastian’s text, he forced himself to wait ten minutes before heading downstairs and to get his coat and shoes ready. He tried to resist the urge to pace in the living room. “Tried” was the operative word.

He was going on a date. A real, honest-to-goodness _date_. With Sebastian, of all people. Sebastian who, by his own insistence, didn’t waste his time on that sort of thing.

The fact that Sebastian seemed to have changed his mind—and over _him_ —had Blaine’s heart racing. He pinched his palm over and over again, dimpling the skin in little half-moons, just to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

He jumped when the doorbell rang. He’d been expecting an “I’m outside” text, not for Sebastian to actually walk up. He ran to the door, not bothering to even check his hair in the hallway mirror, and flung it open.

Two thoughts crossed his mind. First, he was glad Sebastian wasn’t trying to be too sexy. They might not have left the house. Second, every one of Sebastian’s tells was fully on display—shifting from foot to foot, biting his lower lip, running a quick hand through his hair just as Blaine opened the door.

He pulled it together quickly, though, giving Blaine his usual confident grin within seconds. “Hey, killer. Ready to go?”

Blaine just smiled at him. “You’re nervous again.”

Sebastian wrinkled his nose. “I told you, I don’t _get_ nervous.”

Blaine just grinned a little wider. “You totally _are_. I can tell.” His tone made it clear that he was enjoying watching the other boy squirm.

“Okay, fine. I am. Want to put me out of my misery and get going?”

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I think I’m going to enjoy this for another few seconds.”

Sebastian sighed, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, wonderboy, you’re _killing_ me here. It’s bad enough that I’m worried about saying something stupid and ruining this. You don’t have to make it worse.”

“Ruining this? How can you possibly ruin this date?”

“I’ve seen it happen. It wasn’t pretty. Please stop teasing me and get in the car.”

“Wait wait wait.” Blaine put his hands out toward Sebastian in a ‘slow down’ motion. “You’ve actually been on _dates_ before?”

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. He was trying to frown—Blaine could see it—but he was grinning a little at the corners of his mouth and his eyes were sparkling. “I have. Twice. I will _never_ tell you about them. They’re incredibly embarrassing.”

“What? Hey, I told you about the Gap Attack. Fair’s fair.”

Sebastian huffed impatiently. “If I promise to tell you on the drive, will you get in the car?”

Blaine smiled at him, pumping his fists in the air triumphantly. “Yes! Okay, let me put my coat on.” He grabbed his coat off the coatrack just inside the door and pulled it over his sweater quickly before dashing back out into the cold. He stopped at the top of the steps when he saw that Sebastian was giving him an amused half-smile.

“What?” he asked, straightening his collar.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Blaine’s feet. Confused, he glanced down—and realized that in his rush, he’d forgotten to put on his shoes.

“Oh, goddammit,” he swore and stepped back inside.

He heard Sebastian laughing on the other side of the door. “Now who’s the nervous one?”

 

~~~~

 

**161**

“Okay, you promised, spill,” he demanded as soon as they were in the car.

He caught Sebastian’s grimace as he backed out of the driveway. “Can I just tell you about one?”

“Nope. The deal was both.”

Sebastian’s whole face wrinkled at that, making Blaine giggle a little. “Fine. Okay. The first one was with a girl. That’s all I’m going to tell you, because you can imagine how it went.”

“Are you serious?”

“In my defense, I was thirteen, still trying to wedge myself in the closet, and she sort of intimidated me into it. Not like she was going to out me or anything, but I was pretty convinced she’d kick my ass if I said no. We still talk sometimes. She plays varsity rugby.”

“That’s…fair, I guess.”

“Don’t give me that tone, killer. Like you’ve never been there.”

“Okay, you got me. Sophomore year. Rachel Berry.”

“ _NO_.” The look of sheer disbelief on Sebastian’s face was utterly priceless. Blaine was glad they were stopped at a red light. Otherwise the car might have ended up in a ditch.

Blaine blushed a little. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit. How the hell did you put up with her incessant _talking_? I was in a room with her for five minutes and ended up deaf for half the day.”

“Okay, first of all,” Blaine interrupted, holding up a finger to silence him, “this from the guy who hangs out with Diane? Second, you’re changing the subject.”

“Fair. Where were we?”

“Your second date.”

“Okay. Brace yourself, this one—I honestly still can’t believe this happened. His name was Chris, and he asked me out every day for… I think two weeks. I always figured, you know, what the fuck, I’ll agree to it eventually, and I just strung him along because I liked the attention and he thought it was funny. So I finally agreed, and everything that could possibly have gone wrong, did. First, he picked me up—he was a senior and could drive—and his car broke down, so we had to take a cab the rest of the way. Then, when we got to dinner, he knocked a water glass on me _twice_. I mean, the first time you can write it off as nerves, but the second time just sucked. When that small disaster finally wrapped up, we were going to walk to this bookstore I used to hang out at a lot—it had a café inside, it was nice. But of course it was raining. I mean fucking _pouring_ , so since his car was still broken down, we tried to walk. And, because it was that kind of night, we got splashed by at least three buses and showed up drenched and cold. By that point he’d given up even _trying_ to make jokes about it and was pissed off and awful company. I was completely miserable and literally just turned around, hailed a cab, and went home. I wasn’t even nice about it.”

“At that point, I can’t say I really blame you.”

“Sophie took a picture of me when I got in the door. I don’t know how she knew I was coming home—I swear sometimes she’s really psychic—but I stepped one foot inside and bam, the flash went off right in my face. I thought I was gonna kill her.”

Blaine giggled. “So I guess now I know the _real_ reason why you don’t date.”

Sebastian grinned. “Yeah, there you have at. One date with a _terrifying_ girl and one disaster straight out of a bad romantic comedy. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t really know how any of this goes.”

Blaine, trying to suppress his grin, gave him a sarcastically sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Sebastian tried to glare, but he was smiling too much to make it work.

“Well, thankfully I am well versed in successful dating. I’ll be happy to fill you in as we go.”

Sebastian laughed as they turned into the parking lot of a restaurant Blaine had never been to before. “Good. Have I warned you that I’m hopeless? I’m completely hopeless, by the way.”

“I doubt you’re really _that_ bad,” Blaine teased as they parked. “This is the part where you get out and open the door for me, by the way.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

 

~~~~

 

**162**

Sebastian ended up opening the car door for Blaine, as well as holding open the door to the restaurant. The hostess, a pretty Latina about their age, smiled and greeted Sebastian by name.

(“That’s Isobel,” Sebastian explained as they followed her in, “She’s another one of my sister’s friends.”)

The restaurant was small and a little chaotic, with a Bohemian-style vibe that Blaine instantly liked. There was no conventional seating, just arrangements of couches and armchairs surrounding mismatched, low coffee tables. The lighting was low, with warm glows emanating from table lamps scattered around between the chairs. The walls were covered in art, framed records, and what appeared to be Sharpie graffiti from the patrons.

Isobel led them to an overstuffed couch pushed up in front of an antique steamer trunk and handed over their menus. Sebastian thanked her and squeezed her shoulder in a friendly way. They took off their coats and Sebastian hung them on a peg on the wall as Blaine dropped into the couch. It was old and soft, so he sank in quite a bit, almost enough that his feet lifted off the floor. When Sebastian turned back and saw him, he laughed.

“Comfy?”

Blaine tipped his head back and allowed himself to sink in a little further. “Oh my god, yes, but I might not be able to get out of here.”

Sebastian looked down on his with a fond grin. “Alright, well you let me know if you need to be rescued.”

Blaine smiled took a moment to look him over. The deep green shirt he wore stretched tight across his chest and shoulders. His dark skinny jeans accented his long legs, but weren’t the same as the sinfully tight pants he’d worn the night they played laser tag. He looked attractive (but then, he always looked attractive) but casual. Blaine was glad he’d settled for a navy sweater over a checkered button-up and gray jeans—he’d have been overdressed if he’d gone with his first outfit choice.

Sebastian flopped gracelessly next to him, sinking into the couch at an odd angle so that he leaned over and pressed against his shoulder, tipping them both sideways. Blaine squeaked indignantly as he caught himself from falling. “ _Rude_ ,” he teased with a put-upon frown, shoving Sebastian back. “That is _so_ not how you sit down next to someone on a first date.”

“Hey, completely hopeless, remember?” Sebastian reminded him, putting up his hands to block Blaine’s swats. “Besides, you know I can’t resist that ass of—OW!” His remark was cut off when Blaine smacked him none too gently upside the head.

“That is _not_ proper first date conversation, Sebastian.”

“Fine.” Sebastian pouted and fixed his hair. “What _is_ , then?”

“You help me make sense of this menu.” Blaine pointed to the thick stack of artistic pages in front of them. The menus were covered in cartoons and notes and were actually stapled together. It was cute but looked pretty useless. “And if you’ve been here before, you tell me what’s good and recommend something.”

Sebastian smiled and snatched one off the trunk that served as their table. “Okay, if you insist, princess.” He winked in response to Blaine’s glare and flicked the menu open. “The coffee drinks have weird names, but they’re all good. Pick a letter.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

“What? I won’t order you anything disgusting, killer, have a little faith.”

“Okay. Fine. D, then.”

Sebastian scanned a finger down the list as their waitress approached. She was probably a few years older than them and looked tired, but made an effort to be friendly. “Hey, guys. Drinks?”

Sebastian gave her his best smile, and Blaine watched with no small amount of awe as it brightened the young woman up. “Hey. Um, a ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ for him and a ‘Lucy in the Sky’ for me.”

The waitress wrote their order down and headed off, looking a little less frazzled and exhausted than when she walked over. Blaine turned to Sebastian, knowing his eyebrows were still furrowed in confusion after hearing him order.

“Are the coffees named after songs, or were you talking in some sort of code I’m not aware of?”

“No, I totally just ordered you a made-up drink. Yes, they’re all named after classic songs. Speaking of which,” he emphasized the change of subject by tapping Blaine’s shoulder with the menu, “what is your set list for Regionals?”

Without thinking, Blaine opened his mouth to respond, then shut it quickly when he realized what Sebastian had just asked. “I’ll tell you ours if you tell me yours,” he answered with a salacious wink.

Maybe he overdid the innuendo, because Sebastian groaned and fell back against the couch. “Wonderboy, you’ve officially killed me. Also, didn’t you just lecture me about proper first date behavior? I was making innocent conversation.”

“Trying to steal out set list— _again_ —is not innocent conversation.”

“How do you know I wasn’t trying to offer you advice? After all, classics are sort of the Warbler’s whole _deal_.”

Blaine groaned. “Please don’t remind me. I’ve been listening to The White Album on repeat for three days hoping inspiration will strike.”

Sebastian grinned. “So I can expect a rendition of ‘Dear Prudence’ in my future?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I’m neither confirming nor denying it. Change the subject.”

“Okay, fine. Related subject, you should really come to Dalton again on Thursday. We’re initiating the new guys.”

Blaine sighed heavily. “Oh god, what did you put those poor freshmen through? They never did anything to you.”

“Hey now, I didn’t do _anything_. The pranks were all Trent and Thad. I stayed far away from it.”

“Probably for the best. What did they do to you when you joined?”

Sebastian smirked. “Not a damn thing. Then again, I basically walked into the first rehearsal and took over the Warblers by force, so they didn’t dare.”

Blaine couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “You realize that just means they’re saving it for later, right? Before the year’s out, they _will_ have gotten you.”

Sebastian winked. “They’re welcome to try. Anyway, this time they went all out and devised a campus-wide scavenger hunt. I _did_ get involved in that, but not the way you’re thinking. I was hanging out in my room when someone knocked on my door, and Kieran—you know, the redheaded freshman, really shy?—suddenly burst in, yelled ‘Come with me, no time to explain,’ and dragged me out the door in my pajamas.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “And you just let him do that?”

Sebastian shrugged. “How could I resist that invitation? What can I say, I have a soft spot for the kid. Anyway, yeah, he and two of the other newbies dragged my ass all over campus completing the scavenger hunt. By the end of it, it was two in the morning, they were carrying a million things, including a full set of lacrosse pads, a traffic cone, that fucking _canary_ , and I can’t even remember what else. I didn’t even have shoes on, I was freezing, and when I showed up in the rehearsal room with those freshmen—honestly, I have never seen Wes laugh so hard. Turns out the clue was ‘Something that makes you irrationally angry.’”

“Appropriate.”

“I thought so too.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment, interrupted only when the waitress approached with their coffees. Blaine was impressed when he saw that his drink had the logo from Dark Side of the Moon drawn in the foam with caramel and chocolate sauce. Sebastian’s, on the other hand, had something sparkly on top of it—“Salted caramel latte,” he explained. “Sounds weird, but it’s amazing. And no, I won’t share.”

Sebastian ordered dinner for the both of them and they relaxed back into the couch with their coffees. When their feet bumped one too many times, Sebastian reached down, hooked his arm under Blaine’s knees, and lifted his feet up so they rested across his lap. They talked about nothing for a little while—Blaine reminiscing about the pranks the other Warblers played in the last few years, Sebastian adding details about the glitter shower that Nick and Jeff had gotten—and, as they got comfortable, Sebastian rested his free hand on Blaine’s legs, his thumb tracing nonsense patterns on his jeans.

When their food arrived, Sebastian let his feet down, then leaned in and whispered in his ear, “So, how am I doing so far?”

Blaine smiled as he turned into him, Sebastian’s skin warm against his shoulder. “I have to say I approve.”

 

~~~~

 

**163**

“Sebastian, I swear to _god_ ”—

“What? I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Blaine swatted Sebastian’s hand away from his leg. “I just want to watch the movie.”

“Oh come _on_ , you’re totally enjoying yourself.”

Blaine pointedly turned away from him, fixing his eyes on the screen. Though they were in the back row of the theatre, people were bound to get annoyed if he kept having to scold Sebastian. “Hush. Daniel Craig is on screen.”

“I’m so much hotter than him, wonderboy—ow, watch the elbow!”

“People are staring at us.”

Sebastian smirked and his hand slid over Blaine’s knee again. “Then you better keep your voice down.”

Blaine just huffed in annoyance and stole the bucket of popcorn.

 

~~~~

 

**164**

“Oh come _on_ , Blaine, you have to admit it was pretty funny.”

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, his pout firmly in place despite the fact that he wanted to laugh along with Sebastian. “Those old ladies were _glaring_ at us the _whole time_. I could hear them whispering about us when we were leaving.”

Sebastian just smirked. “If they’re that easily offended, they probably shouldn’t have been watching a Bond movie. Just saying.”

“That wasn’t proper first date behavior, Sebastian. _Just saying_.”

Sebastian looked away from the road for a second to glance at Blaine, a smile still playing on his lips. “I’m changing the rules, then.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “They could have had us thrown out.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me. I just sneak back in.” He glanced over when he heard Blaine’s disbelieving laugh. “What? I know _all_ the back doors to movie theaters.” He laughed when Blaine choked. “Oh come on, that one wasn’t even innuendo!”

Blaine couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing. He’d been holding it in all night, struggling to frown when Sebastian made rude jokes or tried to wheedle clues about the New Directions’ set list from him. He doubled over in his seat, arms around his waist. He knew he probably sounded completely crazy, but it had been such a roller coaster of a night that it was difficult to care.

When he looked up, Sebastian was looking at him, eyebrows raised in a half-suspicious smile. “You alright, killer?”

Blaine wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Just shut up and drive me home.”

“Ooh, yes sir,” Sebastian teased, but said no more on the mercifully short drive back to Blaine’s house.

Blaine wanted to start laughing again when Sebastian parked in the driveway and dashed out to open the door for him, extending a hand with an exaggerated flourish. He didn’t take it, suddenly self-conscious about being in front of his house—though it was late, his parents were probably still up and he didn’t know how they’d react to seeing him snuggling up to a new boy.

Sebastian looked puzzled by his sudden reticence. “So…isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to walk you to your door or something? I think I saw that in a movie once.”

He smiled apologetically. “My parents. They spy through the kitchen window sometimes.”

“Oh.”

Blaine barely managed to catch Sebastian’s arm as the boy started walking toward the front door. “What are you doing?”

“I want to say hello.”

“Are you nuts?” he hissed, but it quickly turned into a giggle when he saw the playful grin on Sebastian’s face. “You’re going to get me in trouble. Not the way to end a first date.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning as he slid his hands up Blaine’s arms and around his waist, pulling him in. “Goodnight kiss, then?”

Blaine responded by grabbing onto the collar of Sebastian’s coat and pulling him down. They met with no finesse or preparation, just the press of lips and the slip of tongues and warm breath mingling in the cold air. For a few seconds, Blaine forgot to worry about how visible they were—not just to his spying parents but to the whole damn street. It didn’t matter. It was too perfect for it to matter.

When they broke away, Sebastian’s arms still circled lazily around Blaine’s waist, they smiled at each other with perfect contentment.

“So, overall, how did I do?” Sebastian asked. Though it was an innocent question, he still looked at Blaine like he never wanted to let him go. It stirred something in Blaine’s chest—something not entirely unpleasant.

He winked. “Not bad.”

Sebastian’s arms dropped away from him. “What? All that and all I get is a ‘not bad?’”

Blaine backed away toward the front door, keeping the playful grin on his face. “I get to plan the next time,” he added as he stepped up toward the door.

“Wait,” he heard Sebastian call after him. “Does that mean I get a next time?”

The last thing Blaine saw as he entered his house was Sebastian standing in the driveway, arms up in triumph.

 

~~~~

 

**165**

Nick always felt calmest when he was in a kitchen. Even if it was the dormitory kitchen. The utensils weren’t the best to begin with, and they’d been in pretty bad shape when he started at Dalton three and a half years earlier. Since then, near-weekly cooking experiments had added scratches to all the pans, bent a dozen spoons, and broken a plate or two. And maybe the oven door was a little dented from where he kicked it shut.

Despite the chaos (and occasional damage), for him, there was nothing like cooking to make him happy. A pan of pasta sauce bubbled lazily on the stove, filling the air with a warm, comforting smell. In a corner far from the sink, his iPod speakers played Billie Holiday, which he hummed and swayed along to as he kept an eye on things.

He didn’t hear the door open, but he heard Jeff rap his knuckles on the table as he approached. It was a signal they’d worked out years before, since Jeff didn’t like being snuck up on.

Nick kept humming as a pair of warm arms wrapped around his waist and Jeff pressed against his back, leaning down to kiss his neck. They swayed along to the music and Nick smiled as Jeff began to sing along, so low that he could barely hear it.

“I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day, in everything that's light and gay…I'll always think of you that way…”

He turned around and tipped up onto his toes to kiss him. He loved the way Jeff smiled down at him through his bangs. He reached up to brush a few strands out of his eyes and kissed him again. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of being able to do that. It made something in his chest feel tight in the best way, like his heart was suddenly too big.

“Is this where you’ve been all afternoon?” Jeff asked, his hands still on Nick’s lower back, holding them close at the waist.

“Not _all_ afternoon. But yes. I wanted to give you a treat.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I _know_ that,” he responded, teasing. “But I wanted to.”

Jeff swayed him gently to the beat of the song. “Dance with me?” he asked, nibbling his lower lip the way he did when he was nervous.

There was no way he could resist an invitation like that. Though they danced together all the time at Warbler rehearsal, this was so different. It was intimate, personal, an act of love. When he wrapped his arms around Jeff’s neck, he couldn’t help the stupid smile that spread across his face. He pressed into Jeff’s shoulder to try to hide it, but he felt his low chuckle.

“You’re amazing, Nicky.”

“I’m just trying to keep up with you,” he responded lazily, enjoying the moment. Something about being wrapped up in Jeff’s arms was exciting and comforting all at once.

“No, I’m serious.” Jeff slid his hands up to cup Nick’s face, tilting his chin up so they looked at each other for the first time that evening. There were tears welling up in Jeff’s eyes. “These last couple weeks… I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there for me.”

A tear spilled over and Nick reached up to brush it away. Jeff blushed, but turned into his hand, kissing it gently.

“I’ll always be here for you,” Nick whispered around the lump that had formed in his throat. “No matter what happens.”

Jeff managed a smile even as more tears threatened. “Is it…” He drifted off, chewing his lip again, looking at Nick through his eyelashes. “Is it too soon to tell you I love you? I don’t really know any other way to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Nick brushed away another tear, curving his thumbs around the contours of Jeff’s face. “Can you look at me?” he asked softly and waited until Jeff was ready. When they finally looked at each other, he took a deep breath and braced himself. His heart was ready to jump right out. “You know I love you too, right?”

Jeff just smiled and pulled him in close, leaning his face down into Nick’s shoulder. They stood like that for a long moment before they started to dance again, a slow, unskilled shuffle, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. On the counter, Nick’s phone buzzed insistently, but it would have to wait. Billie Holiday was still singing and there were more important things to think of, anyway.

 

~~~~

 

**166**

Warnings:  Discussion of Jeff getting kicked out, and Blaine’s fear of the same.

 **Nick** : Warblers, this is a Code Blue! Dorm lounge, 8pm. Bring snacks and supplies for blanket forts. Do it for Jeff, guys.

Blaine raised an eyebrow at the text message that appeared on his phone during dinner. He was getting used to being included on the Warblers’ mass texts again, but it was well over a year since he’d gotten a Code Blue.

(In the semi-official language of the Warblers, there were three codes. Code Red meant ‘Warbler Down,” and was sent only when someone was injured. Code Blue meant ‘Warblers Assemble’ for a non-rehearsal meeting. The final one was Code Black, which meant that rehearsal was cancelled because any number of the Warblers were in trouble for pranks. It got used more frequently than one might think.)

He waited until he got back up to his bedroom to respond, curious as to what was going on with his friends.

 **Blaine** : Hey! Sounds like a fun party. Am I invited?

 **Nick** : Uh, YEAH. I sent you the text, didn’t I?

 **Blaine** : Sweet. What’s the occasion?

 **Nick** : We’re just getting together to support Jeff.

 **Blaine** : Is he okay?

 **Nick** : Unfortunately, not really. Things have been really rough for him lately. I don’t know if it’s okay for me to tell you.

 **Blaine** : That’s alright, I’ll come over anyway.

 **Nick** : I’ll ask him if it’s okay. But you can’t tell anyone else.

 **Blaine** : Promise.

 **Nick** : Okay. He says it’s alright to tell you. I gotta warn you to brace yourself, okay? It’s not good.

 **Nick:** His dad kicked him out over Thanksgiving. He’s trying to handle it as best he can, but I thought it would be a good thing if everyone showed him some love, you know?

 **Blaine** : That’s terrible. Oh my gosh. I don’t even know what to say.

 **Blaine** : Does he have a place to go?

 **Nick** : Yeah he stayed with me. Don’t worry about that.

 **Blaine** : Okay good. I’ll be over in an hour.

 **Nick** : Sweet. Pajamas are optional, junk food is mandatory.

 **Nick** : And you can totally sleep here if you need to.

 **Blaine** : I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll keep it in mind.

 **Nick** : Dude the security guard knows who you are. And if not, I’ve baked the guy enough cookies to get him to look the other way.

 **Blaine** : You’re ridiculous

 **Nick** : Whatever you love me.

 **Blaine** : Why is everyone always saying that to me?

 **Nick** : See you in an hour.

Blaine stared at his phone for a long time after talking to Nick. The realization of what had happened to Jeff was crushing. The weight of the fear that he carried in his heart constricted around his chest. For a terrible moment, it hurt to breathe.

It was his worst fear.

When he came out to his parents at fourteen, his father hadn’t exactly taken it badly, but he hadn’t taken it well, either. He didn’t curse or yell. He didn’t say _anything_. And that was terrible in its own strange way, because they tiptoed around the subject for three years. It was why Kurt had been over to his house only twice—neither of those times to meet Blaine’s parents. It was there between him and his father, like a low wall he had to climb over any time he hoped to reach him.

He worried that someday they’d just stop trying.

After swallowing down the lump in his throat, he braced himself and pulled his duffel bag from under his bed. He tossed a set of pajamas, a few Disney movies, and his toothbrush in it before bundling into an extra sweater, finding his keys and heading downstairs.

He tried not to make too much noise as he raided the pantry, but, obeying the law of the universe that he was always clumsiest when he needed stealth, he managed to knock over no less than three boxes as he reached for the bag of chips on the top shelf.

“Blaine?” he heard his dad call from the living room, where he was probably watching tv. “Everything alright in there?”

He flinched as he fixed the mess and stuffed his bag. “Yeah, sorry. Just knocked something over.”

When he stepped back into the kitchen, his father had walked in and was looking pointedly at the bag over his shoulder. “Going somewhere?”

Blaine fidgeted with the strap, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he wilted under his father’s suspicious gaze. “Over to Dalton. My friends are getting together.”

“Dalton? Is that where you are all the time? After you left so you could be with”—

“ _Dad_.” The forcefulness of Blaine’s voice surprised them both, but didn’t stop him. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to yell or cry, and he had to get out the door before he started doing either. “My friend Jeff got kicked out of his house over Thanksgiving. Because he’s _gay_. So I think you’ll understand why I have to go and support him, alright?”

He didn’t let the strained silence fall between them for long. When his father didn’t argue with him anymore, he shifted his bag one more time, added a soft “I’ll be home tomorrow,” and walked out.

 

~~~~

 

**167**

Overall, Jeff was having a pretty good night.

While Nick cooked dinner for the two of them relatively frequently, it was the first time he’d done it as Jeff’s boyfriend. ( _Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend_ …The word still danced around in his head every time he thought it.) This time, they sat with Jeff’s feet in Nick’s lap and took twice as long to wash the dishes as usual—they kept splashing each other with soap bubbles, which led to squabbling, which led inevitably to kissing.

When they finally had everything cleaned up, Nick presented him with a heaping plate of gingerbread cookies (his secret recipe, and Jeff’s favorite) and invited him to the lounge to watch a movie. Jeff was too busy biting the head off a gingerbread man to wonder why they weren’t just going to their room, so he followed Nick obediently down to hall, licking crumbs from the fingers of his free hand.

They walked in comfortable silence, one of Nick’s hands bumping against Jeff’s thigh as they strolled down the hall. At that time on a Saturday evening, the dorms tended to be pretty quiet, as a lot of the boys went home on weekends and the others were in their rooms studying or watching movies. If Jeff had been paying attention, though, he would have noticed that the hall where most of the Warblers lived was almost eerily silent—no one singing, yelling, or running around to knock on each other’s’ doors.

(He wasn’t paying attention, of course, as there were gingerbread cookies to be attended to.)

They stopped just outside the lounge door, Nick looking up at him and wrinkling his nose in that adorable way he had before reaching up to brush some crumbs away from the corner of Jeff’s mouth.

“So,” he began when he finally had Jeff’s attention. “I have a bit of a surprise for you.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows. “…How big of a surprise?” he teased, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Wait, is this another one of Trent’s pranks? You’re totally in league with him, aren’t you?”

Nick laughed. “No, that’s _next_ week.”

Jeff smiled. “Okay, that’s fine. So what’s the surprise, then?”

“Come in and I’ll show you.”

When Nick swung the lounge door open, Jeff nearly dropped the cookies from surprise. The entire room had been converted into a massive blanket fort made of the standard-issue dorm comforters. “Up” was playing on the television and he could hear about half a dozen voices laughing and talking over the movie, even if he couldn’t see who they were.

Nick immediately burst out laughing. “Holy shit, you guys, this turned out _way_ better than I expected.”

At the sound of his voice, Trent’s head popped out from the side of the fort. “Oh, hey! You’re here! Um, surprise!”

Jeff’s eyes went even wider, if that was possible. “Oh my god, how many of you guys are here?”

Thad popped out just below Trent. “All of us. Get in here. We’re watching Pixar movies.”

Jeff squealed and nearly jumped into the fort, landing in a thankfully open spot between Trent and Sebastian. Nick followed him, wiggling in to find a little space, high-fiving the other guys. Jeff waved his helloes (reaching across Sebastian to give Blaine a one-armed hug), then settled in, pulling a blanket over himself and Nick.

“I have a feeling you had something to do with this,” he whispered in Nick’s ear after everyone had turned their attention back to the tv.

Nick just grinned mischievously and shrugged. Jeff pressed a quick kiss on his jaw, which was the only place he could reach.

“You’re amazing.”

“Like I said, I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

 

~~~~

 

**168**

Blaine was surprisingly comfortable for someone who had fallen asleep sitting up on the floor. He made it through “Up” and most of “Monsters, Inc.” before his eyes started to droop and his yawns felt bone-deep, and before he knew it, he was drifting off with his head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

When he woke, the television was off and the blankets blocked the overhead lights, covering everyone inside the fort (which had somehow remained up) in shadow. A few of the guys must have left, because those who remained were spread out on the floor. When he looked over, he saw that Jeff and Nick were asleep in each other’s arms. He was glad they looked peaceful.

One of his legs hurt from sleeping on it, but he was pressed up against Sebastian in such a way that moving would wake him up. Slowly and carefully, he shifted his weight around, trying to take the pressure off his leg.

It didn’t work—next to him, Sebastian stirred, his steady breathing hitching as he woke. He mumbled a few incoherent consonants and rubbed his eyes before opening them and looking down at Blaine.

“Hey,” he whispered, pitching his voice low so they didn’t wake anyone else.

“Hey,” Blaine whispered back. “Guess we dozed off.”

“Mm. Guess so.” Sebastian shifted around, disturbing Blaine enough that he sat up. “Ugh, this isn’t very comfortable.”

Blaine grimaced, rubbing his lower back. “I know. My back hurts.”

Sebastian rubbed a quick circle above his hands, then stood. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

Blaine just blinked up at him, his brain still too foggy to process what he was being asked to do. “What…wait, upstairs?”

Sebastian nodded and extended his hands. “Yes. Upstairs. You know how much the dorm beds suck, but they’re a hell of a lot better than this floor.”

“Sebastian… I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Blaine.” The look on Sebastian’s face softened, his eyes asking for permission as his hands kept reaching out. “Just to sleep. I promise.”

He hesitated a second, but the look on Sebastian’s face—pleading him for a little trust—made him reach out and take the offered hands. He let Sebastian pull him up to his feet and lead him out of the lounge, leaving his bag and shoes where he’d dropped them earlier that night. They walked silently, Sebastian refusing to let go of his hand as they shuffled down the hall.

When they got to the door, Blaine paused one more time, apprehension twisting in the dim corners of his still-sleepy brain.  His trust in Sebastian battled with the last shreds of his lurking suspicion.

He didn’t know what it _meant_. That was the worst part. It had taken over a year for him and Kurt to be comfortable sharing a bed—the Rachel-Berry-kissing-party the glaring exception—and they hadn’t even _done_ anything that night besides cuddle. And here he and Sebastian had only gone on a single date and they were about to share a bed for the second time in less than a month.

Sebastian noticed when he stepped into his room and Blaine’s feet stayed rooted to the spot, their entwined hands tugging at his arm. “Hey. You alright?”

“I…Yeah.”

Hearing the hesitation in his voice, Sebastian stepped in close, reaching up to gently brush a stray curl off his forehead. “Look, if you’re not okay with this, I’ll sleep in Dave’s bed. He isn’t coming back tonight, so he won’t mind.”

Blaine swallowed hard. “Just sleeping?”

“Just sleeping,” Sebastian responded softly. “I promise.”

“Okay.”

Sebastian led him in gently, closing the door behind them before pulling back the blankets on his bed. He fell into it gracelessly, then patted the mattress beside him to invite Blaine in.

He didn’t hesitate again. He climbed in and let Sebastian pull the blankets up over them.

When the warm arm slid around his waist, he allowed himself to curl into the embrace, tangling their legs and cold feet together.

The last thing he felt before he fell asleep was the press of Sebastian’s lips against the top of his head.

 

~~~~

 

**169**

Sebastian was not the type to stay the night or let a guy stay over.

Or, well, he hadn’t been before. It seemed that when the guy in question was Blaine, that was an entirely different manner.

It was just that Blaine was so _cute_ when he slept. With his head on Sebastian’s shoulder, long eyelashes fanned out nearly to his cheekbones, and his full lips _just_ slightly parted, he was the picture of peace and contentment. Sebastian couldn’t even find it in himself to be frustrated with the way that his arm, which had ended up under Blaine’s head, was asleep and tingling.

He lay awake for a while just enjoying himself. The early-morning light filtered through the curtains in just the right way, the blankets were warm and snug, and he had the guy he liked in his arms.

He’d never admit how it made him feel. If he were a romantic—which he _wasn’t_ —he’d have said it was like his heart was dancing to its own rhythm inside his chest.

But he wasn’t a romantic. Of course not. So he _definitely_ wouldn’t ever tell a soul about the stupid smile that kept spreading across his face, no matter how much he tried to fight it.

When Blaine finally stirred and began to wake, he wasn’t disappointed. At all. That would have been ridiculous.

“Morning,” he said when Blaine’s large brown eyes opened, blinking away a few seconds of confusion.

Blaine didn’t even get a chance to respond before Sebastian gave into the desire to roll onto his side and kiss him. He felt the smile against his lips as they pulled each other in closer, but all too soon Blaine put a hand up against his chest.

“Mm. Sebastian. Stop it. I have morning breath.”

Sebastian just grinned and kept kissing him, sliding his hand around his back to keep him close. “I don’t care.”

The hand pressing on his chest became more insistent. “Sebastian, stop it. I have to go home.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes but stopped, leaning back to give Blaine some space. “Okay, fine. I suppose I could let you do that.”

The smile he got in return would have melted his heart if he’d been the warm-fuzzy-romantic type. “You’re awfully cuddly this morning.”

Sebastian managed to fake an offended look despite the fact that all he wanted to do was smile and nuzzle his head into Blaine’s shoulder. The idea of spending the rest of the morning bundled under the warm blankets with Blaine’s arm around him was an incredibly appealing one. “I am no such thing. That’s not even a word in my vocabulary. Clearly you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

Blaine smiled and gave him a soft, quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before he sat up. “Of course. My mistake.”

Sebastian lay back as Blaine swung his legs off the bed, instantly shivering as his bare feet met the cold air. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, which was messy from sleeping on it. “Did I leave my shoes in the lounge?”

“I think so. We were pretty sleepy.”

Blaine turned and shoved at his shoulder playfully. “You gonna walk me down there to get my stuff, or do I have to let myself out?”

“Nope.” He pulled the blankets back up over himself, burrowing into the remaining warmth from Blaine’s skin. The faintest hint of cologne still clung there. “You’re on your own.”

“You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?” There was no malice in the words, but even so, they were tempered by Blaine’s fond smile.

“I’m also warm and incredibly comfortable. Besides, you know your way out.”

Blaine was about to swipe the pillow from under his head when the door opened. Dave didn’t even break his stride when he saw them, just pivoted on his heel with a quick “I’ll come back” and closed the door again.

They sat stunned for a long moment before Blaine laughed. “Are we going to get walked in on _every time_?”

Sebastian pulled the blankets up over his head and groaned. “It’s starting to seem that way.”

The mattress shifted as Blaine stood up and Sebastian resisted the urge to reach an arm out, snag him by the waist, and pull him back under the blankets for another hour. A quick kiss was pressed to the blankets on top of his head.

“I’ll see you soon.”

He was glad for the blankets, hiding the stupid grin that spread across his face. “Just see if you can stay away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to get up! End of the semester, you know?


	18. Chapter 18

**Warnings - This is a heavy chapter.**

**Discussion of Jeff getting kicked out in 172.**

**Mentions of past child abuse and domestic violence in 173.**

**A passing mention of past homophobia from Blaine’s family in 171. It isn’t nearly as intense as some other posts, but I’m putting the warning up anyway.**

 

 

**170**

Trent was already talking when he opened the door to Dave’s room and stepped in. Dave had already begun to get used to the way Trent just burst in, not even bothering to knock. He seemed to assume that he was always welcome anywhere at any time, which was a confidence Dave would never have.

“So I was wondering, what are you doing Thursday?”

Dave turned around in his chair, knowing there’d be no hope of getting back to his homework for at least ten minutes. Though it was a disruption (and he _really_ needed to focus, as all of it was due tomorrow), he couldn’t help the fond smile when he looked up at Trent. “Thursday is booked. Why?”

Trent huffed in frustration and crossed his arms over his chest. If he was trying to look intimidating, it didn’t really work. It just made Dave want to hug him. “Well, un-book it, then.”

Dave imitated the pose. “I really can’t. I’m having coffee with Kurt. He’s moving in like two weeks, remember?”

“Oh, okay, that’s fine. Friday. What are you doing Friday?”

He pretended to think about it for a second. “I can move a few things around.”

Trent rolled his eyes at the little game he was playing, but it was part of their banter. If either of them showed how enthusiastic they really were, well…

Dave pulled himself out of that spiral when Trent finally smiled. “Good. Friday. I’ll be here at six.”

He was about to turn and leave when Dave’s mouth finally caught up with his brain. Conversations with Trent tended to leave him in the dust. “Wait. Aren’t you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope. Dress warm. I’ll drive.”

He was still grinning like an idiot long after the door closed.

 

~~~~

 

**171**

**Warning: A passing mention of past homophobia from Blaine’s family. It isn’t nearly as intense as some other posts, but I’m putting the warning up anyway.**

 

Sundays weren’t Blaine’s favorite day. With the weekdays full of school and extra-long Glee club rehearsals and Saturdays spent trying to have just a little fun, Sundays became the day where _all_ of his homework had to get done.

He was two hours into his latest pre-calculus assignment and less than halfway done when there was a knock on his bedroom door. Though he knew his parents were home, they didn’t talk to him much on Sunday afternoons because they knew about his schoolwork. Most times, he wouldn’t see them until dinner.

“Come in,” he called over his shoulder, scratching his head over the problem in front of him. He hadn’t bothered to do his hair and it kept falling in his eyes. He had to get it cut.

He heard the door open and expected his mother to ask him how he was doing, so he jumped when it was his father’s voice instead.

“Hi, Blaine. Do you have a minute?”

He turned in his chair, trying to hide his surprise. “Hey, dad. Um, I guess so. Come on in.”

Everything about his father’s body language broadcast his nervousness as he came into the room and sat hesitantly at the foot of Blaine’s bed. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt the same way Blaine did. “What are you working on?”

He tossed his pencil down on his notebook. It wasn’t like he’d been making much progress anyway. “Pre-calc. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Oh.” He looked ready to stand and leave, he was so nervous, so Blaine spoke up quickly before he did.

“What’s on your mind, dad?”

“Can you…Come here, and sit with me for a second.”

The tone of is voice was so serious that Blaine obeyed, sitting on the mattress about a foot away from his father. He felt his heart begin to speed up with nervousness. They never sat down and talked together—not just the two of them. They spoke at dinner with their mother serving as the buffer between them, but only small talk about school and glee club.

It took a while before his father screwed up his courage and took a breath to begin. When he did, he started adamantly at his folded hands.

“I was thinking about what you told me yesterday. About your friend. …How is he?”

Blaine shrugged. “He’s doing about as well as can be expected, I guess. He puts a brave face on everything. He always has. But the Warblers look out for him.”

“That’s good.” His voice sounded unconvinced and Blaine couldn’t see the look in his eyes. “I wanted to say… Well, I’m sorry for being mad at you for going. It was the right thing for you to do, to go and support your friend. But more than that… I realized when you talked about him that once, you were probably afraid that the same thing would happen to you. And just thinking about that _killed_ me.

“I know that when you came out to your mother and me… I could have handled it better. I _should_ have handled it better. You never did anything wrong. I couldn’t have asked for a better son than you, but I let my ignorance and my prejudice get in the way. And I hope that someday you can forgive me for that.”

Blaine sat stunned as his father took a deep breath then reached out and took his hand. It was the most surprising thing he could have done. They hadn’t given each other more than a cursory hug since Blaine was fourteen.

“The most important thing, Blaine, is that you are my son, and nothing can change that. I don’t ever want you to worry that I don’t love you, or that I don’t want you here, just because of who you are. We’re family, and that’s more important than anything else.”

Blaine’s chest went tight and tears stung at his eyes. He wiped them away with the heel of his free hand, trying to keep his breathing steady. “Thank you, dad. That means a lot to me.”

Their eyes finally met, and Blaine could see that his father was tearing up, too. They squeezed each other’s hands for reassurance. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the best father I could have been. But I promise I’m going to be better. I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you too, dad.”

When his father pulled him in for a hug—the first real one they’d shared in years—Blaine felt some of the weight he’d carried since his freshman year lift off his shoulders. While the last three and a half years hadn’t been erased, the fact that things would really change—would get better for him and his family—gave him the hope that it would all be a little easier to bear.

“Thank you, dad.”

“Thank _you_ , Blaine.”

 

~~~~

 

**172**

**Warning: Discussion of Jeff getting kicked out.**

 

Sebastian wasn’t a regular smoker. It was a stress thing more than a need—a single pack of cigarettes could last well over a week, and most of the time he lost a half-empty pack before finishing it.

This was not going to be one of those weeks. This was only the fourth day that the pack had been in his possession and he’d smoked his way through more than half of it.

He had a few spots on campus that he liked to hang out when he wanted to smoke. They had to be out of the way of the teachers, of course, and being protected from the rain helped. If it provided a place to quickly stash a half-smoked cigarette to keep it out of sight of any faculty, well, even better.

He was sitting on a bench tucked into the corner formed by the dormitory hallways on Tuesday afternoon, enjoying what little warmth he could squeeze from the winter sun. Though he was out of the wind, the bitter, just-before-Christmas cold got into his bones quickly. He leaned against the wall, letting his head tip back, his eyes closed against the glare.

The crunching of footsteps on the gravel path alerted him. It had to be a student—the footsteps scuffed the ground too much, dragging in a way teachers never did while still on campus.

When Nick came into view, hands jammed in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold, Sebastian relaxed. While he and Nick weren’t the best of friends, he could count on Nick not to rat him out for smoking.

“Hey,” he said when Nick got close enough.

“Hey.” Nick shuffled the rest of the way over. He looked exhausted. “Can I talk to you about something? Actually, no. Can I bum a cigarette off you, _then_ can I ask you something?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow but scooted over to make room on the bench. “Sure.” He handed over the pack and his lighter and watched suspiciously as Nick lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let his head fall back against the wall in a mirror of Sebastian’s pose from moments before. “You okay?”

“Perfect.” Nick didn’t even open his eyes. “Never better.”

“Anything you need to talk about, or…?”

Nick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. Sebastian let him sit in brooding silence, watching the cigarette as it made the trip to his mouth.

“Can I just ask,” Nick began hesitantly, turning to level his gaze on Sebastian, “what was going on between you and Jeff last year?”

Sebastian sat back in surprise. Of all the million things Nick could have dropped on him, that was the last thing he expected. “Come again?”

“Dammit, I’m sorry.” Nick ran a hand through his hair and over his face, somehow managing to make himself look even more tired. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t even fucking know what I’m talking about anymore.”

“Look, seriously, are you okay? You’re starting to freak me out a little.”

 “I don’t know what to do anymore.” The words seemed to burst out, like Nick had been white-knuckling it to keep them in for days. “I’m exhausted, and then I feel like a jerk for it, and I don’t know what to even…I just don’t know.”

“Whoa.” Sebastian leaned forward to rest a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “How about you start from the beginning and tell me what’s going on? No judgment. Scout’s honor and shit.”

Nick took a deep, unsteady breath and fixed his hair again. It had gotten long and was constantly in his eyes. “Jeff told me you know what happened over break, so you know he came and stayed with me for a couple days. I mean, there was no way I was going to let him do anything else. And at the time I tried not to think too far ahead because the most important thing was to make sure he was safe, right?” He glanced up at Sebastian, who nodded his confirmation. “But since we got back, it’s all I can think about. What if nothing changes? He can stay with me during breaks, but what if his parents stop paying tuition? And then there’s next year.

“I know it’s not even my fucking life, but I can’t help but worry about it. Jeff and me—we’ve been a team since we were little kids. I promised him when we transferred here that I would look out for him. And I don’t blame him for being sad, I mean who wouldn’t be? But every time he looks at me like he’s going to cry I feel like I’m failing him. And that makes me feel even worse, because what right do I have to get upset when I’m not the one going through it? I don’t even know what to do anymore. I just feel like such an asshole.”

Nick stopped just as abruptly as he’d started, running a hand through his hair again and taking a long drag on his cigarette. Sebastian sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the tirade. It was the most emotional he’d ever seen Nick, who was usually the calm, thoughtful one.

On the other hand, he felt like Nick really _needed_ him to say something. So he took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and tried his best not to fuck it up. “Honestly? You’re human. You’re doing the best you can--everyone sees it, Jeff especially. But you’re human, and you’re _tired_. That happens, and no one is going to blame you for it.”

“But I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

“Look, Nick, I think you already know this, but this situation isn’t something you can fix by yourself. So far, from what Jeff has told me, you’ve done everything right. You can’t beat yourself up because of things that are outside of your control.”

Nick sighed heavily. “I just want him to feel better.”

“And you’re helping him get there. You’ve just got to stop blaming yourself for feeling bad. You get tired, _it happens_. I’ve been there.”

Nick looked up at him, the realization dawning in his eyes. “You’ve been there,” he repeated, the wheels turning as he spoke.

Sebastian nodded. “Despite what you may have heard, I do have a soul and have devoted some time to taking care of other people.” Nick raised a suspicious eyebrow, so he shrugged and continued. “Look, you can’t talk about this, alright? But before I transferred here, Sophie was… Let’s just say she was sick. She didn’t talk for six months, hell, for the first couple she wouldn’t even get out of bed. She was in rough shape, and after a while, fuck, I tried so hard but I just wanted to shake her, yell at her, anything to make her snap out of it. And of course I felt like an asshole for feeling that way, but I realized that all that she was going through had started to hurt me, too, because I love her, just like you love Jeff. I know it sounds like some stupid romance novel, but it’s true. If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Nick smirked. “They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Probably not.” He laid a reassuring hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Look, bottom line is, you’ve always been there for Jeff. He told me you transferred here to look after him, and I have so much respect for you for doing that. I don’t think anyone could do a better job than you.”

“When did he tell you about why I transferred?”

Sebastian felt a little twinge—as much as he pretended otherwise, he treated people’s secrets as something off-limits, and he worried for a moment that it was something he shouldn’t have known. “He told me last year. Was I not supposed to know?”

“No, not at all. Almost everyone knew freshman year. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you guys were close.”

“I’ve been plotting to steal him from you,” Sebastian deadpanned, feeling himself back in safer territory, and it got the surprised laugh he’d been aiming for. “Shocking, I know.”

“He did tell me you were friends last year. I thought you’d made him cry.”

“Oh yeah, that night you yelled at me? Don’t even start apologizing, I would have done the same.”

They both chuckled at the memory and sat in comfortable silence, finishing their cigarettes and trying to get as much warmth from the sun as they could.

“Hey, Sebastian?” Nick asked after a while.  
“Yeah,” he answered without looking, content to lean against the wall with his face turned to the sun.

“Thanks. I underestimated you.”

“Everyone does.” He laughed when Nick smacked his knee playfully. “But in all seriousness, anytime.”

They were so wrapped up in their own thoughts that they didn’t hear the footsteps approaching on the gravel path, and by the time the headmaster appeared around the corner, it was too late to hide what they were doing.

“Mr. Smythe. Mr. Duval.”

Sebastian opened his eyes lazily and put the cigarette to his lips. “Good afternoon, sir. Care for a smoke?”

 

~~~~

 

 **173** : Summer before junior year

**Warning: This is another heavy one. Mentions of past child abuse and domestic violence.**

 

Sebastian took a deep breath and reminded himself, for the millionth time, to stop being nervous. As if that would help.

It was now or never. He was starting his junior year at Dalton in a month. Which meant that if he didn’t do something, in a month he’d been leaving Sophie alone. In that house. With their father. And there was no way he could let that stand.

He stopped himself from worrying the corners of the manila folder in his hands. He fixed the bow he’d tied around it, quashing the worry that it was too much. It made a statement: Your son—your gay, gay, _GAY_ son—has outsmarted you, and don’t you fucking forget it.

Finally, he straightened his shoulders and knocked.

He heard the frustrated “come in” and swung the heavy door inward. He hadn’t been in his father’s study more than a handful of times as a child, and he refused to let it intimidate him.

His father sat at his heavy wood desk, surrounded by his papers. He looked up in surprise when Sebastian walked in, but it quickly turned to a look of frustration. “What do you want?”

He crossed the room with as much confidence as he could muster and stopped just in front of the desk. “I brought something for you,” he said, presenting the folder with a flourish and a sarcastic smile.

His father glowered at him but took it, tearing off the bow (pink might have been a bit much) and opened the file.

Sebastian knew exactly what photo was looking up at him. To his credit, his father barely flinched.

“What the fuck is this?”

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, willing his voice steady. “ _That_ is how I’m going to get what I want.”

His father had flipped through the rest of the stack. They weren’t pretty--Sebastian had to keep his eyes trained away from them. He shut the folder and lay it flat on his desk, leaning back in his seat. “And what are your demands, exactly?” Suspicion colored every word. His father was looking for a weakness.

“You’re going to move out of this house before I start at Dalton. Since you won’t send Sophie to a boarding school, she has to stay here and you are to stay away from her. You will live somewhere else until we graduate high school. You will not come back here without warning her first. You will not talk to her. You will not go anywhere _near_ her.”

“And how exactly do you propose to make me do that?”

Sebastian gestured to the folder. “Up until this week there was only one copy of those photos in existence. Now there are four. One’s at the hospital where they were taken. One is the copy you see right now. And two others are in envelopes under the supervision of someone I can rely on. If you don’t do everything I tell you to, they’re going to get sent out, special overnight delivery, to two people who will ruin your career.”

“No one will believe you.” The response came too fast. Sebastian sensed his opening and went for it.

“Not everyone will, no. But enough people will. This may be Ohio, but they don’t look kindly on men who beat up their wives and kids, especially men who are supposed to stand for justice, the rule of law, and all that bullshit. Those are my terms. You’re to stay the hell away from Sophie, or those pictures will be all over the nightly news.”

Fear. Anger. Guilt—the feeling he’d been counting on. It was the faintest flicker. But it was there. “No such concern for your other sister?”

He knew right then that he had him, but was careful not to let it show. “Cassie is a grown woman who has proven time and again that she can take care of herself. Besides, you don’t even know where she lives. Even if you _were_ to find her, she’d have a restraining order slapped on you before you could knock on the door. Same result for me, really.”

His father sat back, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And how do I know you’re not bluffing? What if I don’t believe you have the guts to actually go through with this?”

“You don’t. But would I have gone through all the work of getting my hands on those photos and _not_ made sure I could take you down? I may not be brilliant, but I know what I’m doing, and is that really a risk you’re willing to take? All those years down the drain?”

“You’re an arrogant little shit, you know that?”

Sebastian just grinned. “I did learn from the best. Keep the photos. You may need the reminder.”

He resisted the urge to leave the room with a flourish. When he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, he took one moment to catch his breath. He leaned against the bannister across the hall, willing his heart rate to return to normal. He closed his eyes and focused on it, feeling the way it pounded against his ribs, three beats and a skip, the way it had since he was little.

He didn’t hear her footsteps, but when he opened his eyes, Sophie was standing across from him. Her hair hung heavy around her face and her sweater was almost a size too big, loose at her shoulders and hips. Her eyes were huge in her face, which had grown angular and pale over the last six months.

Without a word, he opened his arms to her. She didn’t say anything—he’d almost given up expecting that she would—as she stepped in, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. He held her so tight that he felt the bones in her back.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured against her hair. He didn’t know who he was reassuring, her or himself, but both of them needed to hear it. “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again. I promise.”

 

~~~~

 

**174**

The buzzing of his phone on his bedside table pulled Blaine reluctantly from sleep. He’d been dreaming about singing on Broadway, no less, so when he picked it up and saw the text from Sebastian, he was already pissed.

 **Sebastian** : Hey are you awake?

He groaned. It was entirely too late on a Wednesday night for Sebastian to be drunk texting him.

 **Blaine** : Do you know what time it is? It’s so late, it’s actually early.

 **Blaine** : It is, in fact, TOMORROW.

 **Sebastian** : Sorry

 **Blaine** : Are you drunk?

 **Sebastian** : No

 **Blaine** : Are you sure?

 **Sebastian** : I’m sure

 **Blaine** : Then what in the world are you doing?

 **Sebastian** : Um curled up in bed with a book, actually.

 **Blaine** : Seriously, this is what you want to talk about at 2am?

 **Sebastian** : Uh… yes. Don’t make it sound so pathetic.

 **Blaine** : Ugh. Better be a damn good book, then.

 **Sebastian** : Don’t laugh

 **Sebastian** : I’ve been up all night reading that book The Fault in Our Stars

 **Blaine** : Oh

 **Sebastian** : Yeah

 **Blaine** : You needed a crying buddy, didn’t you?

 **Sebastian** : No

 **Blaine** : You’re totally crying

 **Sebastian** : No I’m not

 **Blaine** : Sebastian I am yet to meet a single person who didn’t cry when they finished that book.

 **Sebastian** : Okay fine I’m sobbing and trying not to wake Dave up

 **Sebastian** : No one warned me about this

 **Sebastian** : I was not prepared

 **Blaine** : I know. I felt the same way.

 **Sebastian** : It’s just not fair

 **Blaine** : I know.

 **Sebastian** : I mean those two were incredibly ridiculous

 **Sebastian:** But still I really wanted it all to work out, you know?

 **Blaine** : Sadly the world is not a wish-granting factory.

 **Sebastian** : Oh god don’t do that to me right now

 **Sebastian** : You’re the worst. I don’t know why I texted you

 **Blaine** : Wake Dave, I’m sure he’d be happy to cuddle with you instead.

 **Sebastian** : You’re an ass

 **Blaine** : Sorry

 **Sebastian** : I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep now

 **Blaine** : Okay

 **Sebastian** : I can feel you judging me all the way from here

 **Blaine** : Totally not judging.

 **Sebastian** : Ugh I’m so sad right now I don’t even care

 **Blaine** : Goodnight, Sebastian.

 **Sebastian** : Never tell anyone about this

 **Blaine** : Your secret’s safe with me.

 

~~~~

 

**175**

It was freezing cold, but Wes couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that happy.

He trailed a step and a half behind Sophie, pulled along by their interlaced hands. The warmth of the restaurant where they’d had dinner was a peaceful memory; now the mid-December wind cut through his coat and gloves, seeking out every inch of exposed skin.

He was finding it difficult to care, though, as the snow crunched under his shoes. The park, a tiny space barely worth noticing in the springtime, had been completely transformed. Every tree was hung with a web of tiny white lights. As their branches swayed in the wind, the whole park shimmered and danced, the reflections twinkling on the snow.

Sophie pulled him into the very center of it. From the moment she laid eyes on the twinkling lights, her enthusiasm had swept over the both of them, and when she was excited no amount of digging in his heels would stop her. He had learned to follow.

They stood in the middle of the park, fingers interlaced even as they stood back to back, looking up at the lights. Wes sighed and leaned back into her, smiling as she did the same.

“It’s so beautiful,” she murmured, just loud enough that he could hear her over the distant sounds of traffic and other people walking by.

He turned his head a little so he could look at her, and she, feeling it, turned to meet his eyes. He smiled. “It sure is.”

She rolled her eyes, giggling under her breath. “You are _so_ cheesy.”

He turned around so he could hug her, pressing against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned into him as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She was a little taller than him, and he loved it—the way she felt solid and substantial, unlike the fragile, ghostly girl he’d met a year before.

“I thought we agreed I get to be cheesy at least once a day,” he joked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“We did, but you’re _really_ overdoing it tonight. I mean, a candlelight dinner during Christmas, of course, and sending flowers to my house yesterday was awfully nice of you, but the crossword puzzle was a little over the top.”

He smiled. It had taken him more time than he’d admit to create a crossword puzzle with all the things he liked about dating her. He mailed it so that it arrived the same day as the flowers, and at the end had clues to where to meet him for their date. It was stupid, but she called him the second she finished it, and he could hear the smile on her face as she gushed out a ‘thank you.’

“You’re the one who spent an hour finishing it.”

She lightly smacked his arm. “I didn’t say I didn’t _like_ it. I was just saying it was a bit much.”

He smiled. Somehow, even when she was teasing him, she always made him smile. He nuzzled his nose into her long, unbound hair, breathing in the newly-familiar scent of her perfume. “It’s worth it to show you how much I love you.”

She didn’t respond for the longest time. He felt the movement of her hips as she shifted her weight from foot to foot and the way her hands tightened over his. When he looked up at her face, she was biting her lower lip.

“I’m not ready to say that yet,” she finally responded, her breath forming a cloud around her red, swollen lips.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her with a gentle squeeze around her waist. “As long as it takes.”

“Thank you for being so patient.”

He just pulled her in tighter. “Thank you for being worth waiting for.”

She laughed and leaned into his embrace a little more. “I’m going to have to work on being cheesy and romantic, I guess.”

 

~~~~

 

**176**

“So I have an idea,” Sam began abruptly as he walked up behind Blaine and slung a casual arm over his shoulders.

Blaine smiled and shifted his books to his other arm as they turned down the hall toward their lockers, the end-of-the-day crowd already beginning to thin. “And what would that be?”

“Tina’s parents are going out of town for the weekend again. She told me to invite everyone over for a party, but I was thinking maybe something a little less drunk this time. Last time was fun, don’t get me wrong, but I figure we probably shouldn’t make out again now that you have a new guy.”

Blaine looked up from his locker combination to assess the look on Sam’s face. He had a purse-lipped expression of ‘hey so that was a joke, hope it was an okay joke.’ Blaine couldn’t help but play along.

“Well that’s disappointing. It was pretty much the highlight of my high school party career.”

Sam grinned hugely. “I know, I’m disappointed too, but I’ll take one for the team, I guess. So, I was thinking something kinda fun and no-pressure, like a sleepover.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Like in middle school?”

“Hell yeah. Think about it. We all pile into Tina’s living room, put on a bunch of movies, eat junk food and not randomly make out with anyone. It’ll be awesome.”

Blaine chuckled at the joke. He knew Sam was trying to make him a little less uncomfortable about the Halloween incident—even if it _had_ been a couple months—but he was going overboard. Oh, well. At least he was trying. “What kind of movies did you have in mind?”

“Well, there are two options.” He closed Blaine’s locker for him and they started down the hall toward their English class. “The first and most obvious would be Christmas movies, but people tend to either really hate them or really love them, and it would be nice to get through five minutes with the glee club and not argue about something. So my second idea was movie musicals.”

Blaine knew from Sam’s smile that his face had lit up at the idea. “Oh my god, Sam, that would be so much fun! But wait.” He stuck out an emphatic finger, Cooper-style, which stopped Sam in his tracks. He couldn’t help but giggle when he remembered the Acting Master Class. “I’m pointing, so I really need you to think about this question.”

Sam snorted when he got the reference. “Can I yell my answer at you?”

“Yes. It’s that important. Classic movie musicals or modern ones? I need to know which of my dvds to bring.”

Sam was brought up short and just blinked for a second, his lips moving as he thought over the question. “Oh. I never thought about that. I guess there’s, like, a big, important difference, right? The only one I know is ‘Grease,’ honestly.”

Blaine faked a put-upon sigh and shook his head in mock dismay. “Straight guys. Honestly.”

“Oh, hey now”—

“Joke. Sorry. But seriously, Gene Kelly or no Gene Kelly?”

“Who?”

“’Moulin Rouge’ it is, then.”

“Sweet. I’ve been meaning to see that.”

Blaine’s mouth dropped open—this time, in honest shock. “WHAT?” He lowered his voice when a few other students glanced his way. “You can’t be serious. Please tell me you aren’t serious.”

“Um… I’m sorry?”

Blaine huffed in disgust—only partially faked—and hitched his bag up on his shoulder. “I’m walking away. We aren’t friends anymore.”

“Wait. Dude. What?” Sam called after him as he marched away, grinning secretly to himself. “Okay, then! Guess I’ll tell Tina we’re on?”

                                                                                                                  

~~~~

 

**177**

**Sebastian** : Strange question unless you had something to do with it: where is the canary?

 **Blaine** : 1. Hi. 2. I’m in math. 3. How the heck should I know?

 **Sebastian** : 1. Hello. 2. So? 3. You mean you’re not the one who stole it?

 **Blaine** : …No?

 **Sebastian** : Damn it. Never mind then.

 **Blaine** : Wait wait wait

 **Blaine** : You can’t just text me demanding to know what happened to Pavarotti and NOT explain.

 **Sebastian** : The damn canary is missing, that’s all I know.

 **Sebastian** : Whoever took it didn’t even have the decency to leave a ransom note.

 **Blaine** : Who would ransom a canary?

 **Sebastian** : I don’t know, who would STEAL a canary?

 **Blaine** : Good point.

 **Sebastian** : Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pet bird to locate.

 **Sebastian** : By the way, this is a reminder that we’re initiating the new guys today.

 **Sebastian** : So I’ll see you there?

 **Blaine** : I really can’t promise anything

 **Sebastian** : Come on, wonderboy, we’re not talking Regionals yet.

 **Blaine** : I’m tempted to make you beg.

 **Sebastian** : You will fail.

 **Blaine** : I’ll think about it.

 **Sebastian:** See you then.

 

~~~~

**178**

Of all the crazy things that happened during Warbler rehearsal, Blaine did not expect a flustered and messy Dave Karofsky to come in half-drenched on a sunny day.

Blaine had been sitting next to Jeff and Nick on the couch in the rehearsal room for a few minutes, chatting with the two while they waiting for the other Warblers to arrive. It was a big day: Initiation was an event everyone looked forward to. After Sectionals (and, unofficially, after they had been on the receiving end of a prank), the newest members of the Warblers sang their first solos for the rest of the group. Depending on the number of new guys, they could choose to sing in pairs or groups as well. Any of the more experienced members could help them practice, and they generally loved to, so it became a good bonding experience for the team.

The Warblers would be initiating all eight of their new members on the same day, so it would be a long afternoon. Blaine was looking forward to it. When he was a freshman, he sang a giggly, joking duet with Trent to “When I’m Sixty-Four.” They had become close friends as soon as they met, prompting rumors, and thought it would be funny to fuel them with a romantic song. Trent accompanied them on the piano and they made doe eyes at each other the entire time, then went out to dinner and cracked up at everyone’s reactions.

It was a day to have fun and let the news guys do all the work, but it was not, normally, a day interrupted by prank-war chaos. So when Dave came in a disheveled, soaking-wet mess, Blaine didn’t know what to make of it.

Dave didn’t say anything, just leveled a glare at Nick and Jeff. Blaine felt the two boys tense on either side of him, looks of fear slowly spreading across their faces. After a long, tense moment, Dave just shook his head slowly, turned around, and walked out of the room.

“We’ve made a serious mistake,” Jeff managed, voice heavy with fear, when the door closed.

Blaine glanced between the two boys, puzzled. “What did you _do_?”

“We got him back for the glitter bomb,” Nick responded, slowly, his voice just as terrified as Jeff’s.

“We’re dead. We’re _so_ dead.”

Blaine didn’t get a chance to offer any reassurance before Trent stormed in, slamming the door closed behind him. “I am going to _kill_ the two of you,” he declared, standing above them, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seriously, you guys, _today_? I was _this close_ to getting some later, and you just fucked that up. You’ve both made it on my shit list this week.” He tossed his bag down on the couch across from them and dropped into a seat, still pouting. Nick and Jeff loosened up with Trent’s outburst and leaned back into the couch, smothering sudden bursts of giggles behind their hands. Blaine just rolled his eyes at them.

“You guys… Well, glad you haven’t gotten busted yet.”

It took only a few more minutes for the rest of the group to join them, including a dried-off but still slightly rumpled Dave. He’d ditched his blazer and tie and changed his shirt, but his short hair stuck up slightly in the front. He dropped down next to Trent, sent a cursory glare to Jeff and Nick, and settled in.

Sebastian strode in with his usual swaggering confidence, and without a word, Nick scooted aside to make room next to Blaine. It was a considerably more obvious move than Blaine liked, and he discreetly made a face at Nick as Sebastian sat down.

“So, have you decided to re-audition?” were the first words out of Sebastian’s mouth.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Still a ‘no,’ Sebastian.”

The other boy shrugged. “I had to give it a shot. Changing the subject, Dave. What the fuck happened to you, big guy?”

“Nick and Jeff,” came the deadpan response, as if that explained everything. Which, since it was those two, it really did.

“Oh,” Sebastian responded slowly, drawing it out. “Well, consider it your official welcome to the Warblers.”

Dave looked like he was about to snap something back when the doors opened and Sophie and Wes came in arm in arm. A delicate gold birdcage hung in Sophie’s free hand. Sebastian sat bolt upright when he saw it.

“Wait. _You_ took the canary?”

Sophie stopped from the confusion, looking between her brother and the birdcage. “Um…yes?”

“Whose idea was _that_?”

“Um, mine, actually,” Wes interjected, his arm sliding around Sophie’s waist. “It’s a tradition that a new member takes care of Pavarotti. I thought it would be funny to give our official mascot to our unofficial mascot.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Sophie added, holding up the cage as evidence. Inside, the bird flitted his wings and twittered. “See? He’s happy.”

Sebastian groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as he sank back into the couch. His shoulder bumped Blaine’s. “I have been looking for that fucking bird all day. _All day_ , guys.”

Sophie giggled and hung Pavarotti’s cage on its stand, leaning down to whistle to the little canary. It responded with another series of cheerful twitters. She smiled and practically skipped over to her brother, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before she and Wes took a seat together in an armchair.

“Alright, is everyone here?” Sebastian asked, sitting back up. “Including the canary?” A quick glance around the room confirmed that yes, everyone was accounted for. “Alright. I’m not directing things today. Who’s up first?”

The honor of First Solo went to Kieran, the freshman Blaine recognized from Sebastian’s description of him. He realized, with surprise, that he’d hung out at rehearsal for hours nearly every week and never heard the boy’s voice, so he was surprised when he began to sing “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” Despite his obvious shyness (he blushed right to the tips of his ears), he had fun, dancing along as he sang. He even hammed it up, taking Sophie’s hand and singing a verse to her before Wes shooed him away. He didn’t have a lot of practice and missed a note at one point, but Blaine thought he had a lot of promise.

He was followed by a quartet of sophomores who sang an incredible, stripped-down a capella version of “With a Little Help from my Friends.” The room went nuts when they finished, with everyone whistling and clapping at a deafening volume while the four guys laughed and took their bows.

While the applause was still too loud for anyone to overhear, Sebastian leaned over and whispered to Blaine, “Dibs on the Beatles, by the way.”

Though he knew it was just a simple offhand joke about Regionals, Blaine couldn’t help the shiver that ran along his spine. Sebastian knew just how to pitch his voice so that it made him think of other, less innocent things.

It took him a second to gather his wits before he responded, “You’ll have to fight me for it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him and his lips curled into his signature flirtatious smirk, but the room got too quiet for him to say anything.

Two other freshmen jumped into the center of the floor and began a rousing rendition of “Everybody Talks,” pulling the rest of the Warblers to their feet to dance along. Blaine joined in, letting Sebastian grab his hands and spin him around exuberantly. He let his mind wander as he danced—what would it be like, really, to dance with Sebastian? Just the two of them, hand in hand or with their arms around each other’s waists? Would Sebastian joke around, spinning and dipping him with more enthusiasm than grace, or hold him close?

He hardly got a chance for the thoughts to develop before the song came to an end and they dropped back into their former places. Sebastian pressed in much closer than before, everything from their shoulders down to their ankles forming one warm line of contact. He tried to act casual about it despite the fact that his skin felt warm and tingly all over. Sebastian gave no sign of anything being out of the ordinary as he leaned back and asked who was next.

Dave stood, shushing the shouts, whistles and playful catcalls that seemed to have gotten louder and more frequent as the year went on.

“Alright, yes, it’s me, everyone keep your damn pants on,” he deadpanned as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt, the very picture of sarcasm.

“The one and only Dave Karofsky. What will you be singing for us today?” Sebastian asked, a huge grin settling across his features as he sank in a little closer to Blaine.

“I will be singing—and I swear to god, Sebastian, keep your comments to your damn self—‘The Way You Look Tonight.’ But, actually, Sophie, if you could help me out with this.”

To everyone’s surprise, Dave extended his hands to Sophie and pulled her onto her feet. As the music started, they made a little show of arranging themselves in a ballroom dancing formation, stifling their laughter.

Blaine half-expected it to be a big joke—until Dave started to sing. He was _good_ , and he and Sophie danced their simple steps with practiced ease. Halfway through the first verse, Sophie joined in the singing. They switched off singing phrases alone and harmonizing with each other. Sophie was clearly untrained, her voice breathy and lower than Blaine expected, but pretty despite that, and she and Dave sounded beautiful together. They danced around the open floor, mixing classical waltz steps with a looser, slowed-down swing step. They had clearly been working hard, though Dave missed a few words to apologize for stepping on Sophie’s foot. He ended the song strong, though, dipping Sophie gracefully as he held the last few notes. By the time they took their bows, everyone in the room was on their feet, cheering and whistling for them. It took a long time for the commotion to die down, and when it finally did, Dave was bright red. He let the other guys slap him on the back as he sat back on the couch. Blaine didn’t mess the way his knee bumped with Trent’s.

Sophie dropped back into her seat next to Wes, who hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time. They shared a quick, chaste kiss, which drew even more whistles from the group. Sophie rolled her eyes and waved them all off with an, “Oh hush.”

Sebastian was the last one standing. “So, wait, is that everyone? Awesome. Well, welcome to all our new Warblers. Congratulations on officially becoming part of the group. Now, all of you get the hell out of my sight.”

One last round of applause went up for the new initiates before everyone began to file out. Blaine stayed on the couch as he watched everyone else go. Wes gave Sophie one more quick kiss goodbye before he left, and in a moment it was only Blaine, Sebastian, and Sophie left in the room.

Sebastian was about to say something—he had a hopefully nervous expression that Blaine thought promised another date—but Sophie hauled herself to her feet and interrupted them. “Sebastian.” She held out her hands to her brother, who rolled his eyes and took them, not leaving his seat. “Come get some coffee with me.”

Sebastian sent a pointed glance over at Blaine. “Got other things to do, Soph.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed, then explained with over-exaggerated slowness. “I don’t actually want to have coffee with _you_ , you jerk. I want to talk to Blaine, but if I get caught wandering the halls here one more time, I get suspended. Crawford frowns on girls wandering randomly around an all-boy’s school, remember?”

Sebastian gave her a look that practically screamed ‘really?’ “Doesn’t seem to have stopped you before.”

She huffed again. “Just get up. We’re all getting coffee. Come on, chop chop.”

 

~~~~

 

**179**

In the two weeks leading up to his official initiation into the Warblers, Dave had heard a lot of ways to describe the feeling of having your first solo. Jeff told him he’d been walking on air for the rest of the day. Nick said he’d felt like dancing. Trent admitted that he’d wanted to sink into the floor from shyness, but had felt pretty good about it afterward.

Dave was _pumped_. That was the only way to describe it. He’d felt something like it before when he won a football game for the first time. He wanted to yell and slap everyone on the back. He’d _nailed_ it. He’d gotten up in front of bunch of really talented guys and actually sang a song. A solo. While dancing. It was better than a touchdown.

He’d been working on the song with Sophie and Trent for two weeks. When Trent told him about the initiation ritual—and told him that yes, he _would_ have to sing, and _yes_ , it would be in front of everyone—he panicked. In his entire four and a half year high school career, he had previously performed a grand total of four songs: two at McKinley and two at Dalton. He’d been in the background for all of them, which was where he liked to be. If he missed a dance step or couldn’t really hit a note, it didn’t matter as much, because he was hidden in the back and the other guys could cover for him. There would be none of that if he was going to have a solo.

Adding Sophie was Trent’s idea. They had been joking about making her go through the initiation since, in Trent’s words, “She’s. _Always. Here_.” When they asked her to perform with him, she demurred at first, insisting it was Dave’s big moment. It took half an hour of persuading her, but she finally agreed, showing up the next day with her dance shoes in her bag.

He tested her patience sorely. She was sweet about it the first twenty times he stepped on her toes, but he was a big guy and her feet started to hurt. After the first hour, she, in a burst of frustration, hauled Trent to his feet and shoved them together with a, “Here. Lead _him_.”

It wasn’t like some sort of miracle happened, or anything, but something about having Trent’s hand in his made it work. It wasn’t in any way effortless, but he could get the steps down well enough to work on singing at the same time.

And then there was Trent. Trent who looked at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips whenever he started to sing, then began to mouth the words along with him. When he started doing that, Dave stopped in his tracks. They stared at each other for a moment before Dave cupped Trent’s face in his hands and kissed him until they were both breathless.

They only stopped when Sophie pointedly cleared her throat and said, “Look, so I won’t tell anyone about this, and _oh my god it’s adorable_ , but you really need to rehearse.”

They both blushed and chuckled nervously, embarrassed at losing control like that in front of someone else.

“Yeah, so,” Dave began, rubbing a sheepish hand over the back of his head, “If you could keep that to yourself, that would be awesome.”

“Secret’s safe with me, boys.”

When Trent glanced up at him, he gave him that _look_. A look of affection tempered with disbelief, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

It was the same look he was probably giving Trent as they walked down the hallway together. They’d split off from the rest of the group to head back to the dorm, and when they were finally alone they let their guards down. Their hands bumped as they walked until Dave reached a pinky out to hook with Trent’s. His heart raced like an out-of-control train, and he was probably bright red, but neither of them had the guts to say a word until they approached his room.

“So…What are you doing right now?” Trent asked as they stopped in front of his door.

He turned so they were face to face, still linked by a single finger. He wanted to grab Trent by his tie and pull him into the room. He wanted to press him against the door like the night of the Halloween party. But he couldn’t. Someone else was waiting for him.

He sighed. “I’m going to see Kurt, remember?”

“Oh.” Trent’s face fell. “I forgot.”

Dave gave him a reassuring smile. “But we’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. Um…Tell him I say hi, okay?”

“I will.”

“Cool.” Trent worried his lower lip with his teeth, a flush rising to his cheeks. “Um. Can I…”

Dave leaned down to kiss him first.


	19. Chapter 19

**No warnings for this chapter.**

 

**180**

“So am I officially a Warbler now?” Sophie asked as she walked down the hall between Sebastian and Blaine.

“No,” Sebastian grumbled back, looking pissed—which only confirmed Blaine’s earlier thought that he wanted the two of them to hang out. “But you’re one step closer to me leaving your ass, suspension or not.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. “Oh, shut up. You love me.”

“Reluctantly.”

Both she and Blaine laughed at him as they walked into the dining hall. Sophie kept pestering Sebastian as the three of them got mugs of coffee (the dining hall had a few large pots set up and full all day, which had saved Blaine a lot of headaches when he attended Dalton). Blaine couldn’t help but smile at their antics, the way Sophie kept swatting at or poking her brother to emphasize a point, while Sebastian just rolled his eyes and responded with single-word answers. A sense of familiarity and playfulness lay just below the surface of the exchange, as if the ‘put-upon older brother’ act was one Sebastian had a lot of practice with. The three of them sat down at a table, the twins sitting next to each other as if by instinct, turning their bodies toward each other while still including Blaine in a little circle. Their movements loosely mirrored each other’s, with Sophie doing the same gestures left-handed as Sebastian did right-handed. It would have been almost eerie if they weren’t so casual about it, as if unaware that it happened.

Sebastian glanced over and saw Blaine’s bemused expression. “What?”

Blaine shrugged. “Nothing. Just…people probably tell you guys this all the time, but you kind of mirror each other when you talk.”

“Oh, yeah, people say that to us all the time.”

“They always ask if it’s a ‘twin thing,’” Sophie added.

“When really it’s more of a ‘we grew up and have spent almost every day together for eighteen years’ thing,” Sebastian finished for her.

“Which is sort of a twin thing, if you think about it.”

“No. No, it’s really not.”

Blaine watched the exchange with growing amusement. “People say a lot of stupid things to you about being twins, don’t they?” he asked.

The fact that Sebastian and Sophie rolled their eyes with perfect synchronicity just made their simultaneous “ugh” even funnier.

“ _All the time_ ,” Sebastian groaned.

“People ask us if we’re identical at least once a month.”

“As if the fact that we’re different genders isn’t enough of a hint.”

“I mean, honestly, we don’t look _that_ much alike.”

“Actually…” Blaine gestured between the two of them. “You really do. But that’s ridiculous.”

“That’s not even the worst of it.”

“True.” Sophie turned to face her twin brother fully. “Stupid questions people ask twins. Go.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Are you two identical?”

“If I pinch you, will your brother feel it?” Sophie added.

“Can you read each other’s minds?”

“Do you have a secret language?”

Sebastian laughed at that one. “No, it’s called being bilingual. Happens when your mom’s an expat. Then of course there’s, ‘Which one of you is the good twin?’”

“Always me. My favorite is, ‘did your mom ever get you confused?’”

“Or, ‘did you ever pretend to be each other to fool other people?’”

“We actually did.” Sophie turned back to face Blaine, her hands gesturing as she launched full-force into a story. “We were six.”

“ _Maman_ made Sophie cut all her hair off, so we looked exactly alike,” Sebastian added.

“And I was so mad at her that I dressed in Sebastian’s clothes, and just for fun Sebastian dressed in mine.”

“We actually went to school like that. No one noticed.”

“So we kept doing it.”

“Took a week for anyone to figure it out,” Sebastian added, “which, let me tell you, taught us some valuable life lessons. Number one being that some teachers just don’t give a fuck.”

“Second being that confidence will get you anywhere, and third being that Sebastian looks _great_ in pink.”

Both boys snorted into their coffee cups at that last remark. Sebastian nearly dropped his on the table, then covered his face with both hands, smothering his laughter with his palms. “Oh my god,” he drawled, his voice distorted behind his hands. “I hate you _so_ much.”

“Oh, hey now.” Sophie could barely get words out through her giggles. “I was complimenting you.”

Blaine caught Sebastian’s eye as he peeked between his fingers. His face was brilliantly red. “You’re _not helping_.”

“Helping with what?” Sophie asked, her eyes wide, overdoing the innocent tone.

“What was it you wanted to talk to Blaine about? You have five minutes, then, so help me god, I will leave you here. Suspension or not.”

Sophie turned back to Blaine, blinking at him as if surprised to see him sitting across the table. “Oh. Blaine. Hi.”

He was still laughing at her, so he responded with an amused, “Hi, Sophie.”

She giggled.  “I guess I forgot what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sebastian’s hands dropped down to the table. “You _forgot_? You just came here to embarrass me, didn’t you?” Indignation mixed with humor in his voice, as if he couldn’t really bring himself to be mad at his sister. (He probably couldn’t.) He stood, straightening his uniform blazer, fixing his hair and generally going over the top with the mockery. “Come on, Blaine, we’re going.”

Blaine chuckled, making a show of picking up his coffee mug and taking a drink. “Okay, first of all, I am not yours to order around, and second of all, I’m here to talk to your sister.”

“And third,” Sophie interjected, “he has to walk me to my car.”

She stood and extended a hand to Blaine, who laughed and took it. Sebastian groaned, but pulled his sister into a hug anyway. “You suck.”

She giggled. “I love you too, big brother.”

She took Blaine’s hand and he sent a wink back over his shoulder at Sebastian as they left. He strolled casually behind them, hands in his pockets, face still flushed from laughing, until they turned a corner. He didn’t follow.

 

~~~~

 

**181**

“So…You only wanted to talk to me so you could embarrass your brother, didn’t you?”

Sophie giggled and slipped her arm through his as they strolled out to the Dalton parking lot. “Of course I did. You never did that to your older brother?”

Blaine wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “How do you know about Cooper?”

“Are you kidding? How could I _not_ know about Cooper? The first thing Sebastian did when he got back from that laser tag game—and may I say, laser tag, really?—was call me and describe him _in detail_. He sounds like fun.”

“He can be,” Blaine admitted, a little bit of the old grudge seeping into his voice. “When he tries.”

“I know the feeling.” She tapped his arm. “So, this is me.”

They had stopped a few paces away from a sleek, vintage hot rod, painted a deep cherry red with white pinstripes. It gleamed in the golden winter sunset. He could practically _feel_ the way the engine would purr.

His mouth dropped open. “This is your car.”

“Yes.”

“You drive a _muscle car_.”

She grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Blaine stepped closer, reaching out to touch it, but didn’t dare let his hands actually make contact with the car. “Oh my god.” He admired it breathlessly, hands skimming centimeters above the paint. “ _You_ , skinny sweetheart wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly Sophie Smythe, drive this car.”

She produced a keychain from her purse and jingled the keys. “Sure do. Look, I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t know the first thing about cars except what makes them pretty, but this is my _baby_. Now, if you please, I actually did have something to talk to you about.”

Blaine turned from the car reluctantly. She had her arms crossed over her chest, as if she was trying to intimidate him. Instinctively, he imitated her pose.

“Alright, do your worst.”

“Okay, you asked for it. What are your intentions regarding my brother?”

Blaine’s mouth dropped open in amused disbelief. “Wait. Are you giving me the shovel talk? Is that really what’s going to happen right now?”

“The shovel…Never mind, this is important, and you didn’t answer my question.”

Blaine laid an overdramatic hand on his chest. “I swear, I have nothing but the most honorable of intentions.”

Sophie sighed and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “Blaine, I’m actually serious. He told me all about your date. He was really happy.”

Hope rose up in Blaine’s chest. Though he’d seen Sebastian’s smile at the end of the date, it was nice to have it reaffirmed. Sebastian wouldn’t lie to his sister, and Sophie was the type to tell every uncomfortable truth. “He was?”

“Blaine, he went on and on about it for _days_. He was so nervous, but the way he talked about you… You’re really good for him. I just want to make sure you know that.”

“Thank you, Sophie. I’m glad I have your approval. Honestly.”

“You always had my approval, wonderboy, it was Sebastian who was on thin ice for a while. Are you guys gonna go out again?”

He smiled, his mind buzzing with the details of the date he was planning. “I hope so. If he agrees.”

She smiled back. “He’ll agree. He really likes you. He always has.”

“I really like him, too.”

“Well, it’s about damn time you both realized it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m never going to get rid of you now, am I?”

“Nope. Twins. Package deal.” She opened her arms for a hug and they gave each other a squeeze. She had a few inches of height on him and her arms enfolded his shoulders. Their previous affection had always been done as a joke—up to and including the kiss she’d planted on him the night they’d gone to the diner—so he was surprised by how comfortable he was with the embrace. For a split second, his mind flashed to what it would be like to have her as a sister—or a sister-in-law. They’d joke, tease, and occasionally yell, but would smooth over any hurt feelings quickly with hugs and back slaps.

“Don’t blow it, okay?” she mumbled just above his ear.

He chuckled. “I won’t if he doesn’t.”

 

~~~~

 

**182**

Dave felt like a complete jerk for running as late as he was, but there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He’d fired off a quick “hey I might be a few minutes late” text to Kurt as he got out to the parking lot and found his truck doors frozen shut (he hadn’t driven in a week or so), but hadn’t gotten a response. It took a few minutes and a solid yank on his car door, which had survived worse, to get the car warmed up and defrosted, and then everyone on the road was driving like an idiot because of the threat of snow, so by the time he finally got to the Lima Bean, he was almost twenty minutes late.

He scanned the coffee shop quickly as he unwound his scarf (an early Christmas present from Trent the week before, who found out he didn’t own one), catching sight of Kurt on the far side of the shop. Dave grinned and was rewarded with a genuine smile that warmed his chest as he ordered his coffee.

He rolled his eyes at Kurt’s raised eyebrow as he sat down. “Yes, I got coffee with caramel.”

Kurt raised his cup in response. “It’s good, right?”

Dave chuckled as he pulled off his coat. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? None of the guys will let me live it down.”

Kurt grinned ear to ear. “Your secret is safe with me. So.” He tapped his hands lightly on the table to emphasize the change of subject. “How are you?”

“I’m good. At least, I think so. With finals coming up, this is the first time I’ve gotten to think about anything besides math for the last week.”

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile. “I remember what that’s like. Sophomore year, I definitely locked myself in my dorm room over the weekend before my French test. Everyone got worried about me and Jeff, of all people, ended up picking the lock on my door.”

“I can see it. Him and a couple of the other guys are always up to something.”

Kurt chuckled. “Have they pranked you yet?”

“Nah, I got them first. Rigged three pounds of glitter to drop from their door. They didn’t even see it coming.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide, but his grin was even wider. “ _No_.”

“Yeah. Best part was, I made it look like Trent’s plan. He was _pissed_.”

Kurt shook his head. “He’s going to get back at you. I’d watch out. I’ve heard rumors of firecrackers being used in some of his pranks. Though…” and here he raised a meaningful eyebrow, “he does seem to have a _bit_ of a soft spot for you.”

Dave tried to bite back the involuntary, stupid grin he seemed to get every time Trent was mentioned. He stared down at his coffee cup, trying not to make a complete ass of himself. “Hey, what ever happened to baby steps?”

Kurt reached across the table to pat his hands reassuringly, even though he still had that adorable ‘cat that got the canary’ smile. “You’re right. But I couldn’t resist.” His hands settled over Dave’s, giving them a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’s just that you seem really happy now.”

Dave sat back and thought about that for a second. It was weird, how the thing that had frightened him the most a year ago—that everyone would know his secret—had come to pass. ‘The worst that could happen’ had come damn near close to happening. And, somehow, he was still there. He had friends he could go to if he was stressed about homework or had a difficult conversation with his dad or was just having a plain old shitty day. He didn’t feel constantly on his guard. He didn’t get angry as often. He actually _smiled_.

“I am,” he finally said, letting the simple fact sink in.

“I’m so glad.”

The smile they shared between them was genuine, but something in Dave’s chest hurt. He couldn’t put his finger on the emotion, exactly, so he shoved it aside. It was best not to focus on it for the moment.

“Well what about you? Chicago. This may be your big break.”

Kurt sat back and Dave could tell he was preening just a little. He was clearly proud of himself, though he’d always been modest about his accomplishments. “I wouldn’t say it’s my big break, but it’s an amazing opportunity. I’m really excited.”

“Who are you going to be working for?”

“It’s another small company, not one that anyone’s heard of. They’re doing ‘Gypsy,’ which, I mean, hello dream job. And since they don’t have a resident costume designer, there’s the possibility they’ll keep me on for the show after that.”

“Think you’ll stay in Chicago?”

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m applying for NYADA again, but there’s the Art Institute and a bunch of other schools in Chicago that I’m looking at too. Where are you applying?”

Dave grinned sheepishly. “Nowhere that nice. A couple sports management programs near here. I figure I might have a shot at getting into OSU, _maybe_ Kent State. Trent kept saying I should try to get out of Ohio. Him and a bunch of the other guys are applying to schools in New York. I sent in an application to Seton Hall, in New Jersey, but I don’t think I really have a shot.”

“Would you go? You know, if you got in.”

Dave shrugged. It seemed like such a longshot—he was repeating his senior year, his grades were okay but not perfect, and he couldn’t count on any athletic scholarships—that he hadn’t actually considered the possibility of getting in. “I guess so. Probably. It would be nice to live somewhere other than Ohio. There’s not a lot here for me after this year, you know?”

Kurt nodded sympathetically as he took a long drink from his coffee. “I know the feeling. Sometimes, it’s just time to move on. It’ll be nice to go somewhere a little more open, get away from the small-town prejudice.”

Dave swallowed hard. He knew Kurt didn’t mean _him_ when he said that, but something about it rang just a little too familiar. _Small-town prejudice. Bullies. Like me_.

He forced the feeling down. Kurt didn’t mean it that way.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

 

~~~~

 

**183**

**Sebastian** : This is becoming a problem

 **Blaine** : Sebastian, it is 1am.

 **Blaine** : We both have school in the morning. Go to sleep.

 **Sebastian** : But Blaine I need your help. You’re the only one who will understand.

 **Blaine** : What did you do NOW?

 **Blaine** : I swear if you’re drunk I’m turning my phone off and you can consider any future dates cancelled.

 **Sebastian** : Whoa, wait, that’s not even what’s going on

 **Blaine** : Is it about that book again?

 **Sebastian** : No

 **Blaine** : Sebastian

 **Sebastian** : Yes

 **Blaine** : Okay, fine, I will be your shoulder to cry on again.

 **Sebastian** : I’m not crying

 **Blaine** : Sebastian.

 **Sebastian** : Okay maybe a little.

 **Blaine** : You read it again, didn’t you?

 **Sebastian** : It was a poor decision, I see that now.

 **Blaine** : No, I did the same thing. I think I read it four times in as many days.

 **Sebastian** : I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.

 **Sebastian** : It’s that whole ‘doing something over and over and expecting a different result’

 **Blaine** : No, no I did the same thing, so I understand.

 **Blaine** : Who gave you that book, anyway? Doesn’t really seem like your thing.

 **Sebastian** : Trent and Jeff were talking about it.

 **Blaine** : Ah, there we go.

 **Blaine** : To be honest, I didn’t think you read so much.

 **Sebastian** : Are you kidding?

 **Blaine** : …No?

 **Sebastian** : Wow. We need to have a serious conversation.

 **Blaine** : I guess so.

 **Sebastian** : Because honestly…

 **Sebastian** : This is embarrassing and you can’t tell anyone

 **Blaine** : Lips are sealed

 **Sebastian** : My room at my house is wall-to-wall bookshelves.

 **Sebastian** : Even here, I have two big boxes under my bed, and they’re half full of books.

 **Sebastian** : I have no idea how I’m going to move them out at the end of the year. They’re BIG boxes.

 **Blaine** : Wow. I’m really surprised.

 **Sebastian** : In a good way, I hope?

 **Blaine** : Oh of course

 **Sebastian** : Okay, because otherwise, it just sounds like you think I’m dumb.

 **Blaine** : I was certainly looking forward to a relationship entirely free of deep, meaningful conversations.

 **Sebastian** : Okay it is too late at night and I am too emotional for that level of sarcasm.

 **Blaine** : I have out-sarcasmed you?

 **Blaine** : I WIN!

 **Sebastian** : I suppose so.

 **Sebastian** : But hey, fair’s fair, now you have to tell me something I don’t know about you.

 **Blaine** : Ugh, seriously? Have I mentioned it is 1:15 in the morning?

 **Sebastian** : Sorry. I get caught up when I’m reading.

 **Blaine** : If I answer, will you let me get some sleep?

 **Sebastian** : No, I will keep you awake attempting to have phone sex.

 **Sebastian** : Blaine?

 **Blaine** : Sorry, I rolled my eyes and forgot you can’t see me.

 **Sebastian** : So no phone sex?

 **Blaine** : No phone sex.

 **Sebastian** : Ugh fine. But you still have to answer my question.

 **Blaine** : Okay let me think. You keep waking me up in the middle of the night, I’m tired.

 **Blaine** : Okay. Something that nobody else knows about me.

 **Sebastian** : I feel special.

 **Blaine** : No one expects this, but when I’m having a really bad day, I listen to the opening song from “The Book of Mormon.”

 **Sebastian** : Oh my god

 **Blaine** : I know. It’s so incredibly offensive, and yet it really does the trick.

 **Sebastian** : No I do the same thing.

 **Sebastian** : And “Turn it Off.” I found it on youtube and learned the dance sequence just for fun.

 **Blaine** : NO

 **Sebastian** : Yep. Tap dance is sort of a hobby.

 **Sebastian** : Okay, that was a second thing. Your turn now.

 **Blaine** : That wasn’t the deal. I need to sleep

 **Sebastian** : Oh come on. I can’t sleep. Keep me company?

 **Blaine** : Fine. One more thing.

 **Blaine** : You heard of Dalton Fight Club?

 **Sebastian** : I have heard rumors. You were in it?

 **Blaine** : Founder.

 **Sebastian** : NO.

 **Sebastian** : I almost fell out of my bed.

 **Blaine** : It’s true.

 **Sebastian** : Holy shit. Remind me never to mess with you.

 **Blaine** : Okay, end of conversation.

 **Sebastian** : You’re not supposed to talk about it?

 **Blaine** : I’m not supposed to talk about it.

 **Sebastian** : You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?

 **Blaine** : I could say the same about you, Mr. Gets All Emotional Over a Young Adult Novel.

 **Sebastian** : Hey now you did too.

 **Blaine** : I did.

 **Blaine** : Thank you for making me your shoulder to cry on.

 **Sebastian** : Anyone else would just make fun of me.

 **Blaine** : No, I mean that seriously. Thank you for trusting me so much.

 **Sebastian** : Like I said…you’re different.

 **Blaine** : Coming from you, that means a lot.

 **Sebastian** : Ugh now you’re being mushy and I’m still a mess, so I’m going to bed.

 **Blaine** : Okay.

 **Sebastian** : Okay?

 **Blaine** : Okay.

 **Sebastian** : Goodnight, B.

 

~~~~

 

**184**

There must have been a backlog of student disciplinary hearings, because by the time Sebastian’s hearing rolled around, it was the day before Christmas break.

He was pissed off, but not for the reasons most people would expect. He didn’t care if he got in trouble for being caught smoking on campus—he’d gotten through much worse and been allowed to stay. It was Nick he was worried about. Nick was only able to attend Dalton thanks to a substantial scholarship, which could be revoked for bad grades or disciplinary problems. If Sebastian’s mistake ended up being the reason Nick lost his scholarship, he would officially go to his grave as one of the bigger jerks on the planet.

Hearings were held in the assistant headmaster’s office, and one afternoon a week after school hours, the benches in the hall were half-full of boys in uniform. They could be there for any number of reasons—all minor disciplinary problems were handled the same way. The only thing really up for discussion was how many community service hours would be doled out for each infraction.

Sebastian slumped on the last bench, consciously taking up as much space as he could so no one would sit next to him. Leaning his head back against the wall, he worried his lip with his teeth as he thought. He needed a plan—a _good_ plan—to keep Nick out of trouble. Problem was, every time he tried to make things better for Nick, he ended up making them worse. Getting them caught was only the last on a long list of problems including, but not limited to, every time he’d talked to Jeff alone and inadvertently sown suspicion between the two of them.

He was pulled from his thoughts by someone dropping onto the bench next to him, rudely shoving his legs out of the way with their knees. He opened his eyes, readying an insult for whoever had disturbed him—honestly, what part of his body language said, ‘please, sit next to me, I’ve left open space for you?’—but it was Nick, so he bit his tongue just as quickly.

“So hi,” Nick began, unbuttoning his blazer.

“Hey.” He tried to sit up but couldn’t be bothered. It took too much effort. “Sorry I got you in trouble.” He thought for a second, then added, “Again.”

“Dude, for once, it actually isn’t your fault. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I still feel like shit for it. I seem to be a terrible influence.”

He caught Nick’s sarcastic grin out of the corner of his eye. “You’re just now figuring this out?”

“Shut up.”

Nick chuckled, then punched his shoulder lightly. “Seriously, Sebastian, it’s okay. I’ll say I’m sorry, swear up, down, and sideways never to do it again, and get five community service hours. We’ll both go to that community kitchen Jeff volunteers at. He’s still working off the hours he earned for the fire alarm. We’ll put the whole episode behind us, and nothing will actually change. It’s _fine_.”

Sebastian didn’t feel any better, even if Nick seemed completely unconcerned. “Still. I’m sorry.”

“That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me in less than five minutes. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Ah, there we go. You’ll be fine.”

Sebastian was about to snap back with something sarcastic when the office door opened and a young-looking boy, probably a freshman or sophomore, walked out. “Sebastian Smythe? You’re in next.”

Sebastian hauled himself to his feet, re-buttoning and straightening his blazer. “Well, wish me luck.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “See you in, like, twenty minutes. I’ll text Jeff and tell him we’re coming along next time.”

Sebastian didn’t feel nervous until the door closed behind him and he took his seat. He sat in a single chair on one side of the assistant headmaster’s desk, facing the man himself and two other administrators who made up the disciplinary board. It was a position he found himself in many times junior year, but less often since September. He worried for a split second that he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this one.

That was, of course, a ridiculous fear, as the discussion lasted a grand total of five minutes. Since he was a repeat offender (caught smoking three times junior year and once in October), he was given fifteen community service hours, to be completed before the end of the school year.

He got his chance to speak when the assistant headmaster asked if he had anything to say. “Um, actually, yeah. I’m not going to argue with you about my hours, because let’s be honest, you’re being nice by only giving me community service. I just don’t want my stupidity to get Nick in trouble. He’s a really good guy, and he made a mistake, which is honestly mostly my fault. I don’t want him getting in trouble because of me. Again.”

The assistant headmaster and the two other members of the board took a silent moment to think over what he’d said. He sat in the uncomfortable chair twiddling his thumbs, looking between their impassive faces. He had no leverage to make any sort of request, but was banking on the unexpected nature of it to get him what he wanted. He just hoped it worked.

“Mr. Smythe,” the assistant headmaster began after the most painful pause in history. “You know I can’t discuss the details of another student’s hearing with you. But I appreciate your concern for Mr. Duval, and can assure you that we know what a good student he is.”

Sebastian let that sink in, then gave a single, solemn nod. “Thank you.”

“You are dismissed, and please send Mr. Duval in.”

Nick winked at him as they crossed in the hall. “Jeff says we’re on for the weekend after New Year.”

 

~~~~

 

**185**

Before Trent, Dave hadn’t known that a snowball fight could be an approved second-date activity. But curled up on Trent’s bed, finally bundled up in dry clothes, some stupid movie he’d already forgotten about playing in the background, he was _really_ glad for the things he didn’t know.

For example, he didn’t know how Trent managed to make his toes curl with only kisses and soft, above-the-belt touches, but he did, and _god_ , was he glad for it. Trent might have been shy when they were alone, but once they started to kiss, there was no longer much need for talking, except for the occasional, “Is this okay?” So far, the answer had been yes.

He’d dressed warm for the date, as instructed, and when Trent showed up at his dorm room door, he still refused to tell him where they were going. He just giggled and pulled him out to the parking lot and into his car.

Trent drove a small two-door car that wasn’t much nicer than Dave’s beat up truck, and he had jerry-rigged an iPod hookup to the stereo system. They sang along to Bob Dylan on the drive out of town, past the suburbs and out into the open spaces that would be cornfields in the summer. It was already dark and the stars were out by the time they stopped on a small side road. On both sides of the car, the snow stretched out glistening and undisturbed.

Dave gave Trent a sidelong glance as they parked. “Is this the part where I find out you’re a serial killer?”

Trent rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder. “Shut up. Get out of the car.”

He did, but was apparently going far too slow, as Trent raced around to the passenger side and grabbed his hands, impatiently pulling him to his feet. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”

They stood at the hood of the car, and when the interior lights went off, the darkness around them was profound. He could just barely make out Trent, who stood with his hands jammed deep in his pockets, chin tilted up toward the sky.

When Dave looked up, too, there were more stars than he’d ever seen. It was breathtaking. “Wow,” he managed, after a long, stunned moment.

“I know.”

“It’s beautiful. How did you know to come out here?”  
Trent shrugged. “I come out here sometimes when I’m really stressed or I just want to be somewhere quiet. I went out driving one night last year and, I don’t know, just ended up here. I thought you might like it.”

He looked over at Trent, who still stared up at the sky. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”

Trent turned to him and smiled. “Of course.”

A split second later, a snowball hit him square in the chest, exploding in a burst of powder.

They got back to Dalton two hours later completely drenched and shivering, and once they’d changed they met up again in Trent’s room. They piled onto his bed and put “Mean Girls” (which Dave admitted once that he _loved_ ) on Trent’s laptop.

The first scene hadn’t even finished before Trent was tilting his face up to accept a kiss, and half an hour later, they still weren’t paying any attention.

There was something wrong, though. It was the same tense feeling that had followed him since he saw Kurt. It had come back to him in flashes throughout the day—a spark of anger at a teacher, an involuntary insult he had to bite back from yelling at another student. It was the stress of finals, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t help but feel a lingering doubt that he hadn’t gotten over his old behavior.

And if he was still that guy, then he didn’t deserve to be anywhere near Trent. That was what killed him—that Trent was putting his trust in a guy who didn’t deserve it. Who would hurt him. Who would, no matter how hard he tried, turn out to be the same old jerk he’d always been.

He cared about Trent a lot. Over the past few weeks, the other boy had worked his way into Dave’s heart and seemingly set up camp there, occupying his thoughts whenever he let his mind wander. He thought about kissing him more than was probably healthy. He wanted to make him happy.

But he knew it wasn’t possible, not in the end.

The realization hurt so much that he stopped mid-kiss, pulling back away from the warm circle of Trent’s arms. The other boy’s eyes fluttered open, then widened in surprise and confusion.

“Is something wrong?”

He realized he was staring with his mouth open and closed it quickly. All he wanted was to mumble a “nothing, sorry,” and lean in again. But when he looked again into Trent’s eyes—open and vulnerable, a little scared—he made his decision.

“I can’t do this.”  
“What, Dave”---

“I’m sorry.”

He nearly slammed the door in his haste to leave. His chest went tight and painful, the air squeezing out of his lungs. But he refused to cry. He stormed down the hall, nearly knocking Nick over in his haste. He heard Nick call something after him, but his blood pounded in his ears so loud he didn’t catch any words.

His fervent, silent prayers for an empty dorm room fell flat when he opened his door and Sebastian looked up from where he’d been reading in bed. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment as Dave struggled to get his breathing under control.

“Are you okay, big guy?” Sebastian asked, concern coloring every word.

“Not right now.” Dave ran a shaking hand over his face. “Just. Please. Not right now.”

“Okay.” Sebastian let his book fall into his lap, his eyes never leaving Dave’s face. “Not right now.”

In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He swallowed hard, reluctant to look at it for fear of Trent’s anger—or tears. When he finally did, he saw it was a text from Nick.

“Are you alright? Not like you to bowl a guy over.”

He sighed heavily as he dropped onto his bed, still staring at his phone screen. He didn’t feel like answering. He felt like going for a run. Or hitting things. Or just curling up under his blankets and sleeping through what would inevitably be an awkward and terrible two-week Christmas break at home.

He pulled the blankets up over himself though he was still fully dressed. He’d deal with it all in the morning. Or after winter break. Or never.

 

~~~~

 

**186**

Saturday morning dawned brilliant and freezing cold as Sebastian packed his bag to go home for the two-week Christmas break. He’d procrastinated as per usual and, with almost nothing ready, had misplaced his shoes, resulting in his half of the room getting turned upside-down at an obscenely early hour of the morning. He had another hour and a half to get out of the dorms and start heading home, and it wasn’t looking good.

Dave had woken up late and hadn’t even acknowledged him so far. His roommate drifted around silent and sullen, the tension in his neck and shoulders so obvious that Sebastian was almost ready to risk incurring his anger and ask him what was wrong.

He distracted himself instead by texting Blaine. It was strange and unfamiliar, the compulsion to check in, say hello, and think of things to make the other boy laugh. He hadn’t gotten any replies so far that morning—he wasn’t expecting them, as he knew Blaine liked to sleep in on Saturdays—but he hadn’t stopped.

He’d sent five text messages by the time someone knocked on his door.

The sound caught him off guard. He glanced over at Dave to see if he was expecting anyone, but got a puzzled shrug in return. Pulling his headphones out of his ears, he crossed the room, half-expecting to open the door and come face to face with his sister.

Instead, he found Trent. The other boy had the wide-eyed, shaky look he sometimes got when he was about to cry. Sebastian knew the expression—he’d been the cause of it more times than he liked to think about.

They stood staring at each other for a moment as Sebastian’s mind raced over the last few days, searching desperately for anything he could have said or done that would have made Trent so upset. The first words out of his mouth were so incredibly stupid that he inwardly flinched, even as he said them. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

He stopped when he heard Dave suck in a quick, surprised breath behind him. He turned.

The look on Dave’s face was tragic, mirroring Trent’s. The wheels spun in Sebastian’s head, finally settling on his answer.

“…I think I had to talk to Nick.”

He clapped a hand on Trent’s shoulder as he passed, not even bothering to check whether his room keys were in his pocket. He’d deal with that later.

He tried as hard as he could not to actually _run_ away from his room, but he still made it to Nick and Jeff’s room in record time. The two of them were dancing around and packing a suitcase each—small ones, since they both had to fit in Nick’s tiny, moving wreck of a car. Jeff was going to Nick’s house for the holiday.

They both looked up when he knocked his knuckles on the doorframe. Jeff jumped over to his computer to turn his music down—he hadn’t thought of them as Beatles fans before—and turned to Sebastian with a big smile. There was only a little tension around his jaw.

“Hey, ‘Bas. What’s up?”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Hi, blondie.” He ducked the balled up tee-shirt that Nick threw at his head. “What was that for?”

Nick shrugged. “Why not? Anyway, I was about to go looking for you.”

“I’ve always had perfect timing.”

Nick responded by rolling his eyes and tossing another shirt his way, which he caught and tossed back, stepping into the room so he could lower his voice.

“Do either of you guys know what’s up with Trent? He just showed up at my room looking like he was going to cry. Or hit somebody. I never know with him.”

Nick and Jeff exchanged puzzled glances, then Nick gestured for him to step in and close the door.  
“He didn’t say anything?”

Sebastian shrugged, leaning against the closed door. “I didn’t stop to ask. I can’t handle it when he gets that upset.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. “Sebastian, you _made_ him cry. Like, three times last year.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I _enjoyed_ it. He looks like a wounded puppy.”

“You never apologized to him either,” Jeff added. “I mean, the three revenges were funny, but you never even said you’re sorry. Just saying.”

Sebastian waved Jeff’s complaints away. “Not the point right now. Nick, why were you coming to find me?”

“Oh.” Nick looked up from his half-packed suitcase. “Right. I was going to invite you over for Christmas eve. Jeff is staying with me, and I know you’ve complained about not wanting to go home, so I figured you and Sophie could come over and I’d cook a huge dinner for everyone. I’m inviting Dave, too, and Kieran, since his parents are, like, in London or something. And you’re both welcome to stay overnight, since it’s supposed to snow.”

“Oh. Thanks, Nick, that would be really awesome.”

“Great.” Nick held out his hand. “Give me your phone. I know you’ll forget my address otherwise.”

Sebastian chuckled and surrendered the phone. “Probably true.”

“So you’ll be there?” Jeff asked from the other side of the room, a small smile beginning to show.

“Of course. I have to experience Nick’s cooking at least once. You talk about it _all the time_.”

“Well, I _am_ his boyfriend. It’s my job.”

Sebastian groaned, rolling his eyes and slapping his forehead melodramatically. “I swear, if Blaine and I ever get this sickening, I…”

He stopped short when he realized what he’d just said. Nick and Jeff stared at him, open-mouthed with shock. No one spoke for a long, stunned moment.

Jeff was the first to get his voice back. “WHAT?” he demanded, arms flailing. “What? Oh my god, Sebastian, WHAT just came out of your _mouth_?”

He panicked. In what would _never_ be considered his finest moment, he snatched his phone from Nick’s hand, turned on his heel, and fled the room, shouting a hasty “see you on Christmas eve” over his shoulder.

 

~~~~

 

**187**

“Hey.”

Dave stared awkwardly at his hands, holding his bunched-up winter coat. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Trent’s eyes. Not yet. “Hey.”

“I. Um.” Dave risked a glance at Trent’s face. He was staring at his hands, biting his lip. He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but struggling not to show it. “What happened?” When Trent finally spoke, his voice was so small and strangled that Dave almost stepped forward to comfort him. He had to fight the urge down. “Did I do something wrong?”

Dave sighed heavily. This was going to be terrible—if it was possible, it would be even worse than he feared. “No. You didn’t.”

“So…” When Trent finally looked up and their eyes met, he looked so sad that Dave nearly crumbled. “So what happened? I thought, I don’t know, that we were having fun.”

“We were. It’s just…” He couldn’t think of how to finish.

“It’s just _what_? I like you, Dave, and I thought you liked me. I didn’t think there was anything else to it.”

“I’m going to end up hurting you,” he blurted. “I don’t want to. But honestly, I don’t see a way around it.”

Trent looked stunned. “What? No. Dave, I don’t believe that.” He stepped closer, reaching out a hand for him. He stepped back.

“I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, his chest going tight. “I just can’t.”

He stared at his feet, refusing to look up even when Trent sniffled and the door slammed shut behind him.

 

~~~~

 

**188**

“Sam, sit down.”

“Sam, seriously, sit down.”

“Sam, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

After the third repetition, Blaine snagged an arm around Sam’s ankle and pulled him down to the floor so he landed with an ‘oomph’ on the heaps of pillows, comforters, and sleeping bags that had been piled on Tina’s living room floor. The other members of the Glee club laughed and threw handfuls of popcorn or additional pillows at him, which he tried to swat away—mostly deflecting them onto Blaine.

On the television in front of them, the opening credits of “Footloose” continued, only slightly diminished now that Sam was no longer dancing crazily along. Blaine settled back and allowed Sam to steal the bowl of Doritos from his lap, basking in the warm feeling of being together with his friends. With all their mid-year finals done and a long, two-week vacation sprawling in front of them, it was the perfect time to relax, watch his favorite musicals, and eat as much junk food as he could hold. Tina crammed in on his other side, pressed in by Sugar, who had brought three dozen cupcakes from some super-fancy bakery. (Blaine had swiped two and already felt the stomachache beginning.)

Tina had agreed to a lineup of everyone’s favorite movie musicals, beginning with “Footloose” and continuing with “Moulin Rouge” and “Chicago.” She had “Singing in the Rain” in reserve in case anyone was still awake by that point, but by the way her head was already dropping onto his shoulder, she wouldn’t make it.  
“Dude,” Sam began around a mouth full of chips, “you _really_ gotta let me dance.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Blaine responded jokingly, “you almost smacked Artie in the face.”

“Oh. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Artie shrugged dismissively. “No problem, bro, but we have _really_ gotta work on your dancing.”

“What? My dancing is _awesome_.”

“Sure it is,” Blaine, Artie, Tina, and Sugar chorused in perfect unison, causing the girls to break into giggles.

Sam just shoved another handful of Doritos into his mouth and retreated into silence. Blaine glanced over at him, concerned that they’d made one joke too many—they were always ragging on Sam, who was a good sport—but Sam just winked and went back to watching the movie, so he knew they were okay.

He felt Tina’s hair brushing his ear and he turned to her. She was drooping slightly, her head resting on his shoulder. She’d had a rough week and had answered the door already in her pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

“You doing okay, secret girlfriend?”

She grunted sleepily and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Mmph. Comfy.”

“Glad to be of help.”

She didn’t respond, and he settled in, content to cuddle a little while she rested. On her far side, Sugar suddenly seemed to have snapped to attention.

“Blainey-kins.” She swatted his knee with her nail file. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Blaine raised an amused eyebrow at her. She seemed to have a different nickname for him every time they spoke—which was rare. She was sweet, in a confusing sort of way.

“I’m all ears, Sugar.”

“Okay. Here’s my idea. You’re still in with all those cutesy private school boys, right? The ones we’re gonna be competing against?”

Blaine bit his lip, wondering where the conversation was going. Sugar’s plans never went…well, they never quite went according to plan. “Yeah, I still see them sometimes.”

“Okay, good.” She scooted closer so she was leaning over Tina and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because I have a plan to get us the Regionals trophy.”

“Sugar, I was thinking more along the lines of our set list”—

“This is better.” She had the look of someone who had come up with a genius plan—the only problem was, what she considered genius, he tended to consider crazy or just unworkable. “What if you dated a Warbler?”

Blaine’s whole body suddenly went very cold and his mind sped up to a panicked pace of _oh my god oh my god ohmygod she knows somehow she knows_. He struggled to keep his face neutral. “I’m not sure that’ such a good idea, Sugar. Spying could get us disqualified.”

“I’m not talking about _spying_ ,” she retorted in her best ‘what are you, an idiot?’ tone. (He’d been on the receiving end of it so many times he found it didn’t bother him so much anymore.) “It’s totally a win-win. You get a hot, super preppy boyfriend, get him to blab their set list, and we win!”

“That _is_ spying, Sugar.”

“And besides,” Sam joined in from his other side, making Blaine jump. He didn’t think he’d been listening. “Blaine already has a new boyfriend.” He poked Blaine in the ribs for emphasis, a devious grin spreading across his face.

“Wait, _what_?” Sugar dropped her nail file in surprise, then began to drum her hands on Blaine’s knees. “You have a boyfriend and you _didn’t tell us_?”

All the commotion woke Tina, who began to stir and sat up, rubbing her bleary eyes with the heels of her hands. “Hmm? What’s this I hear about a boyfriend?”

“Blaine has a boyfriend,” Sugar gushed.

“He does indeed,” Sam added from his other side.

Tina, who had begun to wake up, suddenly snapped upright. “ _What_?” she hissed, suddenly full of indignant rage. “You have a _boyfriend_ and you didn’t _tell me_?”

Blaine sat there with his mouth opening and closing stupidly. Several other members of the glee club had overheard them and turned to look. “I don’t actually have a boyfriend,” he began cautiously, trying to deflect the group’s attention away from him. “I mean, there’s a guy I’ve been dating, but I wouldn’t say we’re boyfriends yet.”

“Does he go to Dalton? Is he a Warbler? You totally knew about my plan already, didn’t you?”

“He’s totally a Warbler,” Sam interjected.

“You’re not helping,” Blaine hissed back.

“Wait.” Tina smacked his leg. “He’s a _Warbler_?”

Blaine threw both hands out in a “please for the love of god stop” gesture. “Oh my god, you guys, _calm down_. He’s not my boyfriend and even if he _was_ a Warbler—and I’m not saying whether he is or he isn’t—I’m not going to spy on him, okay?”

Sugar sat back with a pout. “You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, Sugar,” he said in an attempt to placate her. “We’ll still win. I’ll make sure of it.”

On his other side, Sam had retreated with his bowl of Doritos and a self-satisfied smirk. Blaine turned to him next, punching him in the shoulder. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Nah, but it was funny.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, reminding himself that Sam was just playing a joke on him. He settled back into his nest of pillows, Tina shifting along with him so they could keep cuddling. She turned and looked up at him, her dark eyes still full of surprise.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Sorry. Sam just sort of found out.”

She sniffed, and for a split second he was alarmed. Then she tilted her head up a little higher so he could see the smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “I thought what we had was _special_ ,” she whispered, a note of melodrama in her voice.

Blaine rubbed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “You know you’re my first love, Tina.”

She pursed her lips at him, but the smile won out. “I know I am. Goodnight, secret boyfriend.”

“Goodnight, secret girlfriend.”

Just before she drifted off, he caught one last statement, her voice thick with sleep. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook this easily. I wanna know about this mystery guy.”

 

~~~~

 

**189**

It was several hours after he’d drifted off to sleep that Blaine was awoken by his phone buzzing somewhere in his nest of pillows. It jolted him and he burrowed into the blankets, momentarily disoriented, and he ended up with his feet tangled and a pillow on his back before he found his phone, which had slid under the couch at some point in the night.

He unlocked the screen and saw a single text message. He wasn’t surprised when it was from Sebastian—he had been getting texts throughout the day. They were mostly silly observations and raunchy jokes, but this one had a different tone. After he read it, he stared at the message for the longest time, then blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. It was still the same.

 **Sebastian** : Hey. Can’t sleep. Laugh at me for being an idiot, but it’s the middle of the night and I can say this… Remembering when you slept over a week ago. It was nice. Wish you were here now.

He felt something warm curl up around his heart, then expand. He felt like he was lifting off the floor, off the very earth itself.

He knew he was probably overreacting. It was the middle of the night, after all, and people said things they wouldn’t otherwise when they were tired. When they first became friends and would text back and forth until one or two in the morning, Blaine had let his guard down many times. But back then, it had been shallow—a quick innuendo, an unfulfilled promise, a hint, a suggestion. This…was different. It meant something.

Sebastian wasn’t, in Blaine’s experience, the type to throw his feelings around. That’s what had made it so easy to flirt—he knew he wasn’t the only guy Sebastian was texting pickup lines to. If he didn’t come through on his hints (and he never did), Sebastian could just start over again with another guy and it never mattered. This wasn’t one of those times.

He thought carefully before he typed out his reply.

 **Blaine** : I’m not laughing. I keep thinking about it too.

It was a drowsy moment before he got a reply.

 **Sebastian** : Okay, glad I’m not the only one. But I have to play the game: what would you do if you were here?

Blaine grinned, remembering the last time that question had been asked. Sebastian had shown up, in the middle of the night, at the house where Blaine was now sleeping. They’d gotten caught, but kissing Sebastian out in the cold winter night had been worth the risk.

 **Blaine** : I’d slide into bed and lie with my head on your shoulder so I had to look up to talk to you.

 **Blaine** : And I’d ask you about your day and make stupid jokes to keep you awake.

 **Sebastian** : I’d keep running my hand through your hair so it got all messy.

 **Blaine** : You do like my hair messy.

 **Sebastian** : I do. And when you started to drift off I’d rub your back and let you fall asleep with your head on my shoulder.

 **Blaine** : That sounds really nice. Maybe sometime soon.

 **Sebastian** : I don’t ever talk to anyone like this.

 **Blaine** : As always, your secret is safe with me.

 **Sebastian** : Goodnight, B.

 **Blaine** : Goodnight, Sebastian.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning: Super brief mention of Jeff getting kicked out in 194.**

 

**190**

Blaine was awakened again when he was soundly thumped over the head by a pillow. He sat bolt upright, arms already flailing for his own pillow, before he was even fully awake. He grabbed it and took a swing, but since his eyes hadn’t cleared yet, he only hit the couch.

Above him, someone laughed. Since it didn’t look like he’d be hitting anyone (or at least, not the person he was aiming for), he dropped the pillow, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” he groaned, his ears still ringing from the hit.

“Dude, get up.” It was Sam. Damn him. Damn him to hell. “Tina’s making her awesome pancakes again and she’s about ten minutes away from storming in here and bribing you for information with them.”

Blaine groaned again, fighting down the urge to grab Sam by the ankle and try to fight him. It wouldn’t end well. He counted to ten instead. “Sam, I would much rather be bribed awake with pancakes than hit in the face with a pillow.”

Sam shrugged. “Suit yourself. She’s putting chocolate chips in them.”

Blaine sighed, then hauled himself to his feet and followed Sam into the kitchen. Some of the other New Directions were already there, sitting at the table or standing around the island. The air smelled of coffee and maple syrup and melting chocolate.

Tina presided over the stove as she did every morning after a team sleepover. On this particular morning, she wore a black apron printed with cherries over her pajamas. It was trimmed with red ruffles. All she needed was a string of black pearls to complete the outfit.

She turned when she heard them come in. “Good morning, boys,” she chirped happily. She was a morning person, which annoyed everyone else to no end.

“Morning, Tina,” he greeted her, going to hug her. She swatted him away with the spatula.

“Nope. Sit. We need to talk.”

He rolled his eyes and went to pour himself a mug of coffee. She made strange but exceptional coffee—brewed so strong he could almost stand a spoon in it, with a hint of cinnamon and something he strongly suspected was red pepper. It had a hell of a kick, and after a few sips he was able to find a seat at the table next to Artie and get his brain going.

“Mornin’, loverboy,” Artie greeted him with mock affection, tapping him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Oh god. You’re _all_ about to interrogate me, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” Artie popped the ‘p’ cheerfully. “But we’ll let you get some breakfast in you first.”

“Thanks,” he responded sarcastically, taking a long swig of coffee.

On cue, Tina swept over with two plates of pancakes in hand. She placed one in front of Blaine, then sat down next to him with her own. He hadn’t noticed until that moment how hungry he was, but the smell of syrup and chocolate chips made his stomach wake up. He tucked in immediately, unable to repress the borderline pornographic moan. He reached out and put a hand on her arm.

“I love you.”

She laughed around a mouthful of pancakes—hers were topped with raspberries and almonds. “I love you too, Blaine.”

“No, I’m serious. Let’s get married. You can make me pancakes and I’ll sing you love songs every day.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder indulgently. “I don’t think your new boyfriend would like that too much.”

He put his fork down and braced himself. _Aaaaaand here we go._ “He’s not my _boyfriend._ ”

“That’s not what you said last night,” she teased in her best sing-song tone.

“That is _exactly_ what I said last night. The only one who said differently was Sam.”

Sam looked up from his plate and raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, don’t look at me.”

“ _What_? Sam, you started this.”

“I did _not_.”

Blaine sighed in exasperation and picked up his mug of coffee again. It was _far_ too early in the morning for his team’s shenanigans. Sometimes he just wanted to leave.

“Guys, be nice,” Marley piped up from the other side of the kitchen. He’d almost forgotten she was there—she was nice, but so quiet that she only participated in maybe half of the group’s conversations. She crossed the kitchen, plate in hand, and pulled up a chair between Blaine and Tina. He smiled at her. He liked her, even if they barely spoke.

“So, are you really dating someone?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you really like him?”

He thought about that for a second. In only four months, he and Sebastian had gone from never speaking to actually _honest to god dating_. They texted each other in the middle of the night. They laughed. They kissed. Once, they even held hands. Just the thought of going to see Sebastian made Blaine’s heart do a little fluttering dance.

He chuckled a little when he answered, “Yeah, I do.”

She gave him a warm, honestly happy smile. “That’s so great, Blaine. I can’t wait to meet him some day.”

He covered her hand with his and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Thanks, Marley. That’s really nice of you.”

They smiled at each other for a moment before she turned to Tina. Then the smile turned to the faintest of smirks. “That’s how it’s done,” she announced to the table before she stood up and, to everyone’s surprise, gave a sassy snap in the air and left the table with a grand flourish.

The group sat stunned for a moment. Blaine’s mouth hung open, as did Sam’s. Then she smiled and everyone burst out laughing, Marley loudest of all. Artie applauded and she took a bow.

“Where did that even _come from_?” Blaine asked when he was able to stop laughing.

She preened, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gave her away. “It’s always been there, you just never noticed it.”

Blaine turned to Tina. “We’ve _got_ to be careful with her or we’ll have another Santana on our hands.”

Tina snorted into her coffee, nearly dropping her mug as her hands flailed. Sam and Artie doubled over laughing. Even Marley, who had heard stories, giggled.

“But the moral of the story, Blaine,” she finally added when the laughter had died down, “is that we’re all dying to meet your new guy, whenever he wants to meet us.”

He kept his face neutral, though he could already hear what Sebastian would have to say about that idea. “I’ll keep you updated.”

 

~~~~

 

**191**

**Blaine** : Secret’s out.

 **Sebastian** : WHAT

 **Blaine** : The New Directions know there’s a new man in my life

 **Sebastian** : Well good thing I’m home and far away from Dalton.

 **Blaine** : I didn’t say they know it’s you.

 **Blaine** : Well, Sam does, but he DID see us making out on Tina’s porch, so…

 **Sebastian** : Do not do that to me

 **Sebastian** : I thought I’d have half of McKinley knocking on my door, and as we have already established, I am too young and pretty to die.

 **Blaine** : They wouldn’t KILL you.

 **Sebastian** : Probably not but is that something you’re willing to risk?

 **Sebastian** : You’re taking far too long to answer that

 **Blaine** : Sorry Sugar distracted me

 **Sebastian** : Sugar?

 **Blaine** : Girl in the New Directions. She’s a sweetheart, but… I’m not entirely sure how her brain works.

 **Blaine** : She has this idea that I need to date a Warbler and spy on them to get their set list.

 **Sebastian** : Kieran is single

 **Blaine** : Very funny.

 **Blaine** : How could I date an (admittedly cute, but VERY young) freshman when I’m already dating a guy who texts me sweet dreams in the middle of the night?

 **Sebastian** : You have ruined me.

 **Blaine** : If this is what counts as ruining you, I’m going to keep doing it.

 **Sebastian** : And I have realized that I wouldn’t actually mind it that much.

 **Blaine** : I still have to plan our second date. When can I see you?

 **Sebastian** : Not until after Christmas. Sophie and I are going to Nick’s for Christmas eve and Cassie’s the next day.

 **Blaine** : Gonna see your niece?

 **Sebastian** : Yes. I’m going to get her present tomorrow.

 **Blaine** : You didn’t wait until the last minute or anything.

 **Sebastian** : I suck at buying gifts for people. Shocking, I know.

 **Sebastian** : I always end up waiting until the last minute and then Sophie has to help me. She’s bought her own present three years running.

 **Blaine** : Well have fun with that. I bought everyone’s presents a month ago, so I’ll be at home, relaxing, and waiting for Cooper to arrive.

 **Sebastian** : So you won’t actually be resting, you’ll be flinching in anticipation.

 **Blaine** : Something like that. I gotta go, Tina is getting suspicious.

 **Sebastian** : Tell all your friends I say hi.

 **Blaine** : I will not.

 

~~~~

 

**192**

The drive up to Nick’s was so cold and snowy that it reminded Sebastian of silly Christmas poems, and when he mentioned that to Sophie, she immediately found a radio station playing nothing but Christmas songs. He rolled his eyes and gave a sarcastic running commentary throughout her rendition of “Let it Snow.”

“I wonder if Blaine’s glee club is doing another Christmas special this year?” she mused when the song ended.

He was so focused on the road, which was quickly becoming slippery, that he could only side-eye her for a second. “How do you know about that?”

“I saw you watching it last year. You looked like you wanted to crawl through the screen, but I couldn’t tell if it was to kidnap Blaine or punch poor Kurt.”

“And here I thought I was being subtle,” he responded in his best deadpan.

“Big brother, subtle is barely in your vocabulary. Oh look, I think that’s Nick’s house.”

They pulled up and parked at the end of the driveway. Nick’s tiny, battered four-door (which Sebastian noticed for the first time was decorated with an impressive collection of bumper stickers) and Dave’s pickup truck were already there, dusted with sparkling snow.

“Ready?” he asked as he shut the engine off.

“Ready.”

“You got the presents?”

She paused, eyes going wide. “I thought you did.”

They stared at each other for a second before she giggled. “Got you again.”

He mumbled about her being a pain in the ass as they got out and fetched two armfuls of presents from the back seat, along with the overnight bags they’d packed in case of a storm. It was already snowing harder and he imagined there’d be three or four new inches on the ground by morning. They slipped a few times on the way up to the front door, fighting desperately to keep themselves (and the poorly wrapped gifts) out of the snow.

Jeff answered the door and smiled hugely when he saw them, ushering them inside and brushing snow from their hair.

“We were worried you’d gotten lost. Or buried. It’s really coming down out there.”

“I know, it’s _beautiful,_ ” Sophie gushed as she toed off her shoes.

“That’s because you didn’t have to drive in it,” Sebastian grumbled, catching a box that slid off the top of her stack.

They shuffled their bags and boxes from arm to arm and person to person as the twins removed their coats and Jeff hung them in the hall closet. By that time, the smell of something delicious was pulling them toward the kitchen and all Jeff had to do was point them in the right direction.

Sebastian glanced over the house as they crossed through it. It was small, and the furniture was faded and mismatched, but warm and cozy in a way his house never was. The walls were covered in family photos. He caught a quick glimpse of a photo of Nick and Jeff, grade school aged, with round cheeks and missing front teeth.

The kitchen was barely big enough for three people but they were the sixth and seventh. The table, where Dave and a woman he assumed was Nick’s mom were sitting, was already covered with plates of snacks, and the center island was swamped under utensils and ingredients. The air smelled of something roasting.

Nick stood over the stove, wielding a wooden spoon and a dishtowel over four different pots. Kieran stood just outside the range of his elbow, a dog-eared recipe book in hand.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Sophie chirped happily. “Something smells _awesome_.”

Nick turned when he heard them walk in, his spoon already waving. “Away from the stove,” he ordered, splattering a trail of some brown sauce on the linoleum floor.

“Yes sir.” Sebastian pivoted on his heel and turned toward the table, Sophie following on his heels. “Hi, Mrs. Duval.”

“Hi, honey. Do you two need a hand with all those?”

“No, but is there a place we can put them down? I think Sophie’s about to fall over.”

“I am _not_ ,” his sister hissed from behind her stack of gifts, which had shifted so that her face was blocked. She was wobbling precariously.

“In the living room would be fine.”

Nick turned around when Sophie squeaked, trying desperately to keep from dropping anything. “…Did you two seriously bring presents?”

“Uh huh.” Sophie’s voice managed to carry over the stack.

“You guys _really_ didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Sebastian shrugged. “But I figure you’ve put up with the both of us for a year and a half, so Christmas presents were the least we could do.”

He dropped everything (carefully, even though the wrapping paper was already pretty wrinkled) then went back for Sophie’s armload, mussing her hair playfully and giving her a gentle nudge toward the table. When he got back, she was wrapped in one of Mrs. Duval’s famous hugs, which had to be a record, as Sophie was often shy the first time she met someone.

He grinned and stood just out of range of Nick’s formidable spoon. “How’re things going, Duval?”

“Do not disturb me, I am in my element here.”

Sebastian laughed and turned to Kieran, who had been standing there like a pale, silent shadow. He blushed when Sebastian looked at him. “How’re you doing, kid?”

He shrugged in response, looking down at his feet. “Okay, I guess.”

Sebastian resisted the urge to give him a hug, no matter how sad he looked. “You miss your family?”

“Yeah. But they’ll be home in a couple days, so I guess it’s not so bad.”

“That’s good. But if you need anything in the meantime, or if Nick smacks you with that spoon too many times, let me know, okay?”

Kieran blushed all the way to the tips of his ears and swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything else. Leaving him to assist at the stove, Sebastian crossed over to the table, where Mrs. Duval was chatting up Sophie, Dave, and Jeff. Mrs. Duval gave him a once-over, then pulled him into an embrace. She was a small woman, barely up to his shoulder, so he had to lean down, but she hugged him so tightly that she could have turned the tables and lifted him off his feet.

“Hi, honey. How are you?”

“I’m good. Glad that finals are over.”

“He has a new boyfriend,” Jeff added from his seat at the table. “So I’m sure he’s _fantastic_.”

Sebastian let out a deep, exasperated breath. “Honestly, Jeff, sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.”

“I know, right? I do too.” Jeff winked at him over a mug of hot chocolate.

Mrs. Duval raised an eyebrow as she glanced between the boys. “So do you really have a new boyfriend or is that just Jeff making up stories again?”

“Jeff’s just making up stories again.”

She shook her head and smiled at Jeff indulgently. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll get him set up with somebody.”

Sebastian ignored everyone’s laughter.

 

~~~~

 

**193**

Blaine couldn’t remember the last time they’d had such a comfortable, warm Christmas Eve as a family. It had probably been before Cooper moved out. Since then, every year had gotten more and more awkward and stilted, even when his brother did manage to visit.

This year, though, they were clearly pulling out all the stops. Blaine had spent the entire day wandering between the couch and the kitchen looking for a chance to get something to munch on, only to be shooed out every time by both of his parents. Mid-afternoon, the smells of something delicious had begun to waft out into the living room where he was watching “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Not long after, Cooper showed up, bringing his usual noise and bluster.

They had dinner together listening to Cooper’s highly embellished tales of life in LA. He was apparently “on the short list” for a role in a new Spielberg film and in “intense negotiations” with Martin Scorcese. Blaine listened, nodding along as he ate his fill. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket several times throughout the meal, but he was so busy that he didn’t check it once.

It wasn’t until much later that night, after his parents had gone to bed and he and Cooper had settled in the living room with their third slice of cake, that he remembered. Cooper was drifting off to sleep, having talked through the first three-quarters of “A Christmas Story” before the heavy meal overwhelmed him and he crashed, so Blaine didn’t feel bad about checking his phone.

He had five missed texts: three “Merry Christmas eve” messages from Marley, Sam, and Jeff; a “Wish you were here” message from Tina, who was apparently parked in front of her fireplace; and a photo from Sebastian. Blaine pulled the image up out of curiosity. It was a quick, slightly dim photo of a group—he could recognize Nick, Jeff, Dave, Sophie, and a shadow that might have been Kieran, along with an older woman he didn’t recognize. They sat around a dinner table stacked with dishes. Everyone was talking animatedly, Sophie laughing, Jeff gesturing wildly. Sebastian’s caption read simply, “Orphan Christmas Eve at Nick’s.”

Blaine smiled. Sebastian’s sudden desire to share the small details of his day was new, but somehow it felt comfortable. He would send a picture, or a joke, or two lines about something that made him laugh, and Blaine was under no obligation to respond. That’s what made it so easy: Sebastian was sharing just for the sake of sharing, putting no pressure on Blaine. He could respond if he wanted to—and most of the time, he did—but it was no big deal if he missed a few messages.

He replied to the “Merry Christmas” messages with similar responses, told Tina he was totally jealous (the Anderson’s electric fireplace gave off very little warmth), and fired off his first response to Sebastian that day. “Looks like you’re having fun. Tell everyone I say hello. Except your sister. She knows what she did.”

It took a few minutes to get a response—it was very late, and Sebastian had sent the photo a few hours earlier. “I’m afraid to ask. She’s asleep anyway. Nick and Jeff and I are still up, though, and they say hello.”

He attached another photo, this one even dimmer than the last, but it showed Nick and Jeff sitting at the dinner table in their pajamas, leaning into each other, mugs in front of them. They looked exhausted—especially Nick—but happy.

“I wish every family Christmas was like this,” came the next message a few moments later. “Just eating and talking and…I don’t know.”

Blaine smiled. “No, I know. Had that kind of Christmas Eve for the first time today. Cooper nearly drove me nuts, but it was still great.”

“That’s awesome.” The short message indicated to Blaine that the conversation had veered a little too far into ‘feelings’ territory for one night. He was a little disappointed, as they’d made huge steps in the past few weeks, but it was a long series of baby steps, in the end. He just hoped Sebastian wouldn’t end it there—and a few seconds later, he got his answer.

“We’re tired and probably going to crash really soon. Hope things with the family are going well and Cooper hasn’t driven you nuts.”

At the mention of going to bed, Blaine slowly realized how tired he was. Between the heavy meal, keeping up with Cooper, and the leftover fatigue from pre-Christmas tests, he was slowly sinking into the couch. He briefly weighed the pros and cons of bundling himself into his blanket nest and drifting off right there.

He was rearranging his pillows when his phone buzzed again. “By the way, it’s after midnight. Merry Christmas, Blaine.”

He smiled and wrote back, “Merry Christmas.”

 

~~~~

 

**194**

Warning: Super brief mention of Jeff getting kicked out.

It was late at night after a busy, exhausting day and Sebastian wanted nothing more than to crawl into his sleeping bag on the living room floor, but Dave was snoring so much that it was impossible to get any rest. His spot on the floor wasn’t particularly comfortable, so he spent an hour or so tangling himself in his blankets and envying Sophie her spot on the couch. (The boys had all insisted, and she hadn’t exactly argued.)

Finally, a little before midnight, he gave up and untangled himself before sneaking through the rows of sleeping people toward the kitchen for tea. He wasn’t surprised to see that the light was still on—Nick had been determined to finish the dishes before going to bed, and there were a _lot_ of them.

He tiptoed in, prepared to turn around and run if Nick threw something at him. Instead, the sink was clear. Nick and Jeff sat next to each other at the kitchen table, heads leaning in, hands clasped. They looked tired, with slumped shoulders and messy hair. From where he was standing, Sebastian could only hear the faintest murmurs of their voices.

He was turning around to sneak away when Jeff saw him out of the corner of his eye and looked up. To Sebastian’s great relief, he didn’t look angry. “Hey, Sebastian, what’s up?”

He pivoted back toward the kitchen. “Hey. Couldn’t sleep. Dave snores like a fucking _train_ and Sophie keeps kicking me in the head.”

Nick chuckled. “She subconsciously hates you.”

“Probably. But look, I didn’t know you guys were in here. Sorry to interrupt.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and used the hand not entwined with Nick’s to gesture him in. “Sit down. Stay a while.”

“You want some tea?” Nick asked as Sebastian pulled out a chair and sat. He gestured to a chipped, blue floral ceramic teapot that sat on the other end of the table next to a bunch of matching mugs.

“That would actually be really nice. I won’t even make a joke about how _incredibly_ gay that teapot is.”

Nick went to pour the tea in Sebastian’s lap but Jeff, smiling indulgently, pushed the pot back over the table and picked up a mug. Nick filled three and they sat in comfortable quiet for a moment, letting the warmth settle in their bones.

“So,” Sebastian began cautiously after a while, “how are you guys? Seriously.”

The two looked at each other and took a deep breath. Nick reached up to brush Jeff’s bangs out of his eyes in a sweet, tender gesture that was so perfectly _them_ that Sebastian didn’t even have the heart to roll his eyes.

“We’re doing okay,” Nick answered after a moment, giving him his best attempt at a smile.

Sebastian reached over to take Jeff’s free hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You doing alright?” he asked gently.

Jeff squeezed back, but he looked sad. “Today…today was awesome, but it kinda sucked too, you know? My mom said… when everything happened, she said she’d have it fixed by Christmas. And it’s Christmas. And…” His voice faltered for a second, and he broke his grip with Sebastian to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “I miss her. I miss my little sister. I even miss my dad. I know it sounds weird, but I do.”

Sebastian felt a pang of sympathy—even then, after everything that had happened in the intervening years, he sometimes missed the way his family used to get along. The fact that it was a complete lie didn’t keep him from wishing it could have been that way forever. “No, I get that.”

Nick didn’t say anything, just leaned in to press a kiss to Jeff’s temple and rub his back. It prompted a weak smile, finally, from Jeff. “Today was pretty awesome, though.”

“My mom insisted on making us breakfast,” Nick added, leaning across Jeff to stage whisper to Sebastian. “ _Heaps_ of French toast. And I have it on good authority that half her closet is filled with Christmas presents for this guy.”

“She’s been really good to me,” Jeff agreed.

“We’ve always been mama’s boys,” Nick concluded, chuckling as he bumped shoulders with Jeff.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I mean, _someone_ has to keep an eye on Nick,” Sebastian joked, “and god knows it’s not me.”

“You are the worst influence ever,” Nick agreed.

“Did you open the presents I brought yet? Drugs. They’re _filled_ with drugs.”

Jeff snorted into his tea. “You’re an ass. Why do we even talk to you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He was about to make another joke when he felt his phone, which had made its way into the pocket of his pajama pants at some point during the night, buzz against his hip. When he pulled it out and unlocked the screen, he saw that Blaine had finally responded to the text he sent over dinner.

He realized he was smiling like an idiot at the screen when he saw Jeff looking at him suspiciously. “Oh. Um. Smile for a picture?”

He raised the phone quickly and his friends obliged, leaning in so he could snap a quick photo. “Who are you texting?” Nick asked in a tone of voice that suggested he knew the answer.

“No one.”

“Sebastian.” Nick gave him his best sassy look. “Stop being a teenage girl.”

“I’m doing no such thing.” Despite his insistence, he refused to look up and meet their gazes.

“So when are you going to tell you what’s going on with you and Blaine, anyway?” Jeff asked, giving Sebastian’s elbow a nudge.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Sebastian, you practically admitted to being boyfriends, don’t give us this crap.”

He locked the phone screen and slid it back into his pocket. “Blaine and I are not boyfriends. I would need to stop being a heartless bastard, and it’s not looking like that’s happening anytime soon.” He stood, and then leaned down to add conspiratorially, “But if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

He was about to leave but stopped himself, turning back to run his hand over Jeff’s hair, playfully mussing it. “It was good to see you smiling today, blondie.”

He felt their eyes on his back as he headed out into the living room. He stepped carefully over Kieran and around Dave’s feet, reaching his sleeping bag without tripping over anything. On the couch, Sophie stirred. She’d always been a light sleeper.

“Hey, big brother,” she whispered into the dark.

He could barely make out her form in the dark room, but he reached out and found her hand. “Hey, little sister.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

 

~~~~

 

**195**

Sebastian loved his sister.

Really, he did. It was just hard to remember when she was singing Christmas carols at the top of her lungs while he tried to drive.

The snow had stopped coming down around midnight and the plows had done a pretty decent job, so the road wasn’t terrible. It was everyone else—holiday travel had never been Sebastian’s favorite thing, but add in everyone’s nerves about the snowy roads and it was pure hell. They had been driving about 25 miles per hour the entire time, and it was looking like they’d miss brunch if they kept at that pace.

“Sophie, I swear to god, if you don’t stop singing right now”—

She laughed. “You’ll turn this car around and we’ll go back home? You sound like _maman_ when you get road rage.”

“I don’t have road rage,” he sniffed with mock offense. “I have Christmas carol overload.”

“Well, you better suck it up when we get to Cassie’s. You know how she loves her Christmas music.”

“Getting her all those Frank Sinatra Christmas albums last year was probably a mistake.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “Speaking of which: for someone who buys gifts at the last possible second, you did pretty damn well this year.”

“Thanks mostly to you.”

“The gift card for Nick was _your_ idea.”

Sebastian had to agree that he’d put a lot of thought into that one. While a gift card didn’t exactly scream ‘thoughtful gesture,’ a gift card for a gourmet kitchenware shop with a note instructing Nick to follow his dreams of becoming a chef bordered on brilliant by Sebastian’s standards. “In my defense, I wasn’t aiming to make him cry.”

“I know. But you did well.” She smiled at him fondly. “ _I_ had to stop myself from crying in front of Jeff.”

Jeff had given Sophie a pair of satin ballet shoes, custom-dyed her favorite shade of aqua blue. They were, he told her, to wear for their upcoming Juilliard audition in February. “I looked it up, and it doesn’t say anything in the rules about the color of your shoes,” he told her, grinning sheepishly. “I know you’re gonna stand out already because of how good you are, but… I figured every little bit helps, right?” Sophie had wiped her tears away so discreetly that even Sebastian, who knew her every mannerism, nearly missed it.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Sebastian driving, Sophie staring dreamily out the windshield at the dazzlingly white landscape ahead of them. After a moment, when he thought it was safe, he reached over and turned the radio down. She noticed and chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

Well, she didn’t say anything for a few minutes. There was no way she’d let him drive the rest of the way there in peace. It would be wasting precious opportunities to embarrass him. “So did you buy Blaine a present?”

He side-eyed her again. “No.”

She grinned, turning her body toward him so she could poke his arm. “Liar.”

“Am not.” It was almost funny how quickly they could revert to childlike behaviors sometimes. He half expected her to start playing the “I’m not touching you” game they’d driven each other crazy with on family trips. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you. You’ve gone out of your way to make things difficult for me. I mean, honestly, you tried to give him the ‘hurt my brother and I’ll kill you’ talk the last time.”

“Oh, come _on_ , you have to admit that’s pretty funny.”

“If by funny you mean _completely humiliating_.” He softened the harsh words with a wink. She pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Like you have any right to complain. You did the same thing to Wes.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He trailed off, trying to find the correct way to say what was on his mind. Referencing Sophie’s “issues” (the euphemism was hers) was touchy, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her on Christmas.

She, of course, misinterpreted his pause. “I’m what? A girl?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. I mean…I’m your big brother, it’s my job.”

“I know.” Her expression softened. “I know you did it because you love me—even if you wish you didn’t, sometimes—and you were looking out for me. I just wanted a chance to do the same to you.”

He grinned. “I don’t think I’m in any danger from _Blaine Anderson_ , Soph.”

She sank back into her seat, satisfied that he had accepted her explanation. “There are lots of different kinds of trouble, big brother. I was thinking more along the lines of getting your heart broken.” She paused, then, as the conversation had taken a dangerously serious turn, added, “If you have a heart after all. Jury’s still out on that.”

He chuckled and returned to driving, letting the conversation fade. He lasted two minutes before he cracked. “I bought him…” He caught himself. “Never mind. It’s stupid. I probably won’t even give it to him.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure, if you put some thought into it, he’ll like it.” She gave him a reassuring, sincere smile, but it dropped away quickly. “Now, focus on driving. I want to get to Cassie’s in one piece.”

~~~~

 

**196**

**Sebastian** : I GOT THE UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATER

 **Blaine** : Merry Christmas to you, too! I’m guessing there’s a story here.

 **Sebastian** : A story AND the ugliest Christmas sweater OF ALL TIME

 **Sebastian** : Oh and Merry Christmas

 **Blaine** : There we go

 **Blaine** : Story, please.

 **Sebastian** : So it’s an incredibly stupid tradition between my sisters and me, but six or seven years ago, Cassie found this INCREDIBLY ugly Christmas sweater and gave it to Sophie

 **Sebastian** : And since then, every year we’ve traded it between us. Cassie even mailed it to Paris once. I guess it’s my turn this year.

 **Blaine** : Please please PLEASE send me a picture.

 **Sebastian** : Oh my god no your eyes would melt

 **Sebastian** : Parts of it light up

 **Blaine** : A picture of you WEARING the sweater

 **Sebastian** : Never gonna happen. This things just LOOKS itchy.

 **Blaine** : Please? I’ll send you pictures of the bowties Cooper gave me.

 **Blaine** : Even by my standards, they’re weird. It’s the thought that counts with my brother, though.

 **Sebastian** : I would really love to see what ties you consider weird, since I’m 50% sure you wore one with flamingoes on it once

 **Blaine** : I have not

 **Sebastian** : Anyway I gotta run, I’m in charge of putting Katie down for her nap. I might end up taking one too.

 **Blaine** : Well give her a hug from me. Merry Christmas.

 **Sebastian** : Merry Christmas.

 

~~~~

 

**197**

“Hi.”

Blaine rolled over in bed, pressing his phone to his ear with one hand as the other rubbed his eyes. The glowing face of his alarm clock blurred, then slowly came into focus: 11:43 pm.  “Hey.  Why are you still up?”

On the other end of the connection, he heard Sebastian shifting. “Katie couldn’t sleep and had to find her Uncle Bas. Hang on.” More shifting and rustling noises, then soft breathing, and a sleepy little girl’s voice said something that sounded like, “hi.”

Blaine smiled. “Hi, koala bear.”

A moment later, Sebastian’s voice came back on the line. He was whispering. “And she’s out. You’re the cranky toddler whisperer.”

“I try.” Blaine rubbed his eyes again, trying to bring his fuzzy mind around to a conversation. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Yeah.” He could practically hear Sebastian’s lazy smile. “We drove over this morning from Nick’s. He and Jeff say hello, by the way. But yeah, it’s always good to see Cassie. And this little sleepy munchkin here.” Sebastian’s voice changed as he directed the last bit at Katie, becoming softer, _almost_ bordering on what Blaine would have called baby talk.

He couldn’t help the soft chuckle as he pictured Sebastian cuddling with his adorable little niece. “I’m glad you let me be a part of it.”

“I didn’t…” He heard Sebastian pause, knowing it was taking him a second to regain his ruffled dignity. There was only so much vulnerability that Blaine was allowed to see, after all. “I just wanted to say hello and Merry Christmas.”

He bit down on a knuckle to keep from laughing at how ridiculous Sebastian was being—as if denying it would change the fact that they were closer than ever before. “You already did. Twice before this, in fact.”

There was another long pause, and when Sebastian spoke again, his tone was hesitant and serious. “If it’s too much…I can, you know, let you go.”

“No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t answer if I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Well…” There was embarrassment in Sebastian’s voice now. Blaine wondered fleetingly if he was blushing. “I’ll let you get some sleep, anyway. Do you have some free time over break? You still owe me a second date.”

“Did you just ask me out again? I thought twice would be too much to ask.”

Sebastian chuckled softly. “I’m doing no such thing. You’re the one who said you wanted to plan the next time. I’m just holding you to that.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that. I have plans with Cooper tomorrow, but what about the day after?”

“I’m sure I can keep that day open.”

“Good.” Blaine rubbed his eyes again, feeling them get heavy. “I’m going back to sleep. This guy keeps texting and calling me late at night and keeping me up. It’s getting really annoying and I’m always tired.”

Sebastian laughed again, louder this time, then shuffled around. Blaine wondered if he had woken Katie. “Sounds terrible. Goodnight, wonderboy.”

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

 

~~~~

 

**198**

Blaine was unhappy, but not exactly surprised, that he woke up two days after Christmas with a stuffy nose, an aching head, and what was probably a raging fever.

It was all Cooper’s fault, and Blaine was going to _kill_ him when his head stopped hurting so bad.

Cooper had made a big deal about their need to spend more time together (a desire which had, in Blaine’s opinion, come out of absolutely nowhere), so Blaine gave in to two days of wheedling and agreed to see _Les Mis_ with his brother, knowing ahead of time that 1: it was a big mistake and 2: he would go back to see it with Tina after New Year anyway.

It was actually a fun evening: they got dinner at Breadstix, talking about Blaine’s college applications and Cooper’s upcoming auditions, then went over to the movie theater at the mall. Blaine cried during “I Dreamed a Dream,” Cooper discreetly wiped away tears during “Bring Him Home,” and they both sobbed like little children at the end.

It started taking a turn for the worse when they left the theater and found it had snowed about four inches. Add that to the existing foot of snow on the ground and it would have been a beautiful, if slightly slippery, walk to the car. That is, until Cooper pitched a snowball that hit Blaine square in the face, knocking him into a snow bank from surprise.

Even that wouldn’t have been so bad if the heat in Cooper’s car worked properly—which, of course, it didn’t—so he had to sit for the whole thirty minute drive back home in soaking wet clothes, his shoes filled with snow, shivering and mentally cursing his brother. Cooper apologized profusely—he had just wanted a laugh, and wasn’t _aiming_ for his face—but that didn’t change the fact that Blaine was raspy and shivering even after a long, hot shower. He knew, even before getting in bed, that he was going to be sick in the morning.

It was almost eleven in the morning before he was able to drag himself downstairs for tea. He hissed irritably and pushed away Cooper’s offer of toast, retreating to his bedroom and his heap of blankets with aspirin and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

He was upset, and not just because he hated being sick. He’d spent a day planning a spectacular second date with Sebastian—way more time, in fact, than a _second_ date merited—and there was no way he was going to be able to pull it off.

Miserable, he found his phone on his bedside table and sent a text.

 **Blaine** : Hate to do this, but I have to cancel tonight. I’m really sick. Reschedule?

Not expecting a reply for a while, he burrowed into the covers and opened his book. Half-Blood Prince was his favorite, even if Ron Weasley desperately needed to get his act together and just admit he was in love with Hermione, already. He’d just gotten to one of his favorite scenes when his phone buzzed, vibrating itself right off the table and landing on the carpet with a _thump._ He leaned down to snatch it up, hoping it was Sebastian and, at the same time, that it wasn’t—best to hold off the disappointment for as long as possible.

 **Sebastian** : That sucks. Need someone to take care of you?

Blaine suppressed a smile as he typed his response.

 **Blaine** : Best not. I’m pretty cranky. I just need tea and sleep.

 **Sebastian** : If it helps you change your mind, I make a damn good cup of tea.

 **Blaine:** I’m sure you do. And I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather not show you what a hot mess I can be.

 **Sebastian** : Oh please, that’s my favorite way to see you.

 **Blaine:** I suppose telling you not to come over isn’t going to work?

 **Sebastian** : Honestly? If you were to say Sebastian, don’t come over, then I swear on my cold, uncaring heart that I would not come over.

 **Blaine:** But if I were to imply that I would be okay with it?

 **Sebastian** : See you in an hour. I’ll bring movies.

 **Blaine** : I’ll tell Cooper to let you in. My parents are out until later tonight.

 **Sebastian** : Score.

 **Blaine** : Don’t even start. May I remind you I’m sick?

 **Sebastian** : Details.

 

~~~~

 

**199**

“Holy shit.”

Sebastian stood just inside Blaine’s bedroom door, a messenger bag over his shoulder, a slightly overdone look of shock on his face.

Blaine sniffed indignantly and tugged his blanket up higher on his chest. “What?”

“When you said hot mess, you weren’t _kidding_.”

Blaine didn’t respond, just tossed all the blankets over his head and stayed there, resolving to remain, pouting, until Sebastian apologized.

Sebastian held out for twenty seconds. “Oh come _on¸_ wonderboy, it was a joke. Don’t be like that.”

Blaine sniffed overdramatically even as he bit down on his lip to repress his smile. “You’re _mean_. I’m sick and you’re being _mean_.”

He heard muffled footsteps on the carpet, then felt the soft press of a hand on his upper back. “Come on, Bee, I brought popcorn and Disney movies. Do you have _any_ idea how much of my pride I had to swallow in order to bring ‘The Lion King’ over with a straight face?”

Surprised, Blaine poked his head out. “You seriously brought Disney movies for me?”

Sebastian nodded and responded in his best deadpan. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

“Well, I suppose I can let you stay.”

Sebastian grinned. “That’s more like it.”

Blaine scooted over and Sebastian climbed onto the bed (on top of the blankets…for now). They got a little tangled as they each tried to set up Blaine’s laptop and grab snacks simultaneously. Blaine looked up as Sebastian reached across him, bumping the top of his head on Sebastian’s chin. They both chuckled before Sebastian leaned in.

He was tempted, but put a hand against Sebastian’s chest to hold him back. “Uh uh. I’m sick, remember?”

Sebastian kept leaning against his hand, his eyes half-closed. “Don’t care. I never get sick.”

“Okay, just one.”

They met in the middle, kissing chastely, just once—until Sebastian smiled and leaned in for another, quickly. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Blaine stretched to plant another one on his cheek. “It’s okay. I wasn’t going to let you get away with just one, anyway.”

“I thought not.”

They settled in, sinking low so that Blaine could rest his head on Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian hooked an arm around his back and began to play with his hair as the movie started, rubbing his head in a gentle way. They watched in silence for a few moments, Blaine letting Sebastian soothe him into a dreamy, heavy-lidded half sleep. He wrapped an arm around Sebastian’s waist, earning a chuckle and another kiss pressed into his hair.

“So, you probably had some fantastic, incredibly romantic date planned, didn’t you?”

Blaine pouted, mourning his cancelled plans. “Not _incredibly_ romantic. I still feel like you’d leave if I was _too_ romantic.”

“I probably would,” Sebastian agreed.

“See? But it was pretty nice.”

Sebastian leaned in a little closer, his fingers tracing the back of Blaine’s neck. “You going to tell me what you planned?”

“Nope.” He grinned up at Sebastian. “Saving it for when I feel better.”

“Date recycling? I feel like I should be offended.”

Blaine shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, then settled in to rest his head on Sebastian’s chest. “Be offended if you must. But you will _totally_ be eating your words when we actually go out.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

“I hope so.” Blaine felt himself growing sleepy. “You better bring it for date number three.”

“So I already earned a third date, huh?” Sebastian asked teasingly, trying to nudge Blaine back awake, but he had already drifted off.


	21. Chapter 21

**No warnings for this chapter.**

 

**200**

“Blaine. _Blaine_. Wake up, babe, you missed the whole movie.”

Blaine groaned and turned so his face was pressed fully into Sebastian’s shoulder. He felt a little better than when he fell asleep, but his head still ached. “Nnng. Five more minutes.”

Sebastian’s nudging hand on his arm became more insistent. “Bee, you never told me when your parents are coming home. I’d rather not climb out the window this time.”

Blaine rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, trying to clear his blurry mind. “Since when do you call me Bee?”

“Since now.” Blaine raised a suspicious eyebrow—cute nicknames? From _Sebastian Smythe_? “Come on, it suits you.”

The eyebrow stayed raised. Sebastian started to blush a little under Blaine’s sarcastic glare, then gave him another teasing shove to distract him from it. “It _does_. Anyway, the point is, you never told me when your parents are coming home. I’d rather leave through the front door this time. The snow bank under your window looks _deep_.”

Blaine had to think for a second. “Um. Not until later tonight. They’re visiting my grandma, so, like, nine?”

Sebastian looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, which read 5:43. “Nice. So we have time for one more movie if you can stay awake.”

“I think I can manage that,” he responded as he pushed himself up.

“Awesome. You want anything? I think I remember offering tea.”

“Well… If you’re still offering…” Blaine turned his most hopeful puppy eyes on Sebastian. “It would make me feel a _lot_ better.”

Sebastian huffed with fake indignity, then gave him a smirk. “Fine. Give me a kiss and I’ll go.”

Blaine groaned. He knew he looked like absolute hell—his hair was probably a mess, his nose and eyes were red, and he had two days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He hadn’t felt that completely unsexy in a long time, and the last thing he wanted to do was kiss someone when he had bad post-nap breath and a runny nose.

“I don’t wanna get you sick.”

Sebastian leaned in, his eyes half-closed as he went for the kiss anyway. “We already covered this, remember?”

“I know, but I feel really gross right now.”

Sebastian nuzzled his nose against Blaine’s cheek, then pressed his lips there, gently. “You’re not _gross,_ just… messy.”

Blaine was about to turn in and kiss back when his breath suddenly caught in his chest and he turned away quickly, coughing into his sweatshirt sleeve. When it finally stopped, his eyes were watering and he felt even more disgusting than before. He couldn’t look up, able to imagine the look of horror on Sebastian’s face. “Sorry,” he squeaked.

Sebastian shifted back. “Okay, yeah, that was gross.” He slung his legs out of bed and stood, straightening his tee-shirt and pulling his skinny jeans up from where they’d slumped too low on his hips. Blaine resisted the urge to stare at how the pants molded to his ass. Or tried. It was rather difficult. “I’ll be back. If Cooper doesn’t abduct or murder me for going near you. Seems like something he’d do.”

“He’d try,” Blaine agreed. “If he starts using a mafia accent, _run_.”

Sebastian turned back for a second. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding, and that worries me.”

“Sad part is I’m being totally honest.”

“Awesome. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Blaine definitely did _not_ watch Sebastian’s ass as he walked out of the room. He waited, counting five footsteps down the stairs outside his room before leaping out of bed. He ducked into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. Just as he feared, he looked _awful_ —stubble, hair frizzy and sticking in every direction. His mouth felt sticky, so he grabbed for his toothbrush.

He was brushing his teeth when he heard his phone buzz on his nightstand. He crossed the room, toothbrush still sticking out from his lips.

He almost choked when he saw the text.

 **Sebastian** : Cooper is here. Mafia accent. Oh my god save me

 

~~~~

 

**201**

The Anderson’s kitchen was one of those fancy, gourmet setups that sparkled in a way that indicated the near-absence of cooking. He knew because the kitchen in his father’s house looked exactly the same way.

There was a kettle already on the stove--an appliance that looked like it could launch itself into space at any moment—so he started it up. It took him a minute of rifling through the dark-lacquered cabinets above the sink to find mugs, and even longer to locate the jasmine tea in the pantry. (He opened two other large cabinets before he found the pantry, one of which sent an avalanche of Christmas wrapping toppling at him. He slammed the door closed and leaned against it, moving away only when he heard the contents stop shifting.)

He set up two mugs and waited for the kettle, leaning against the center island of the kitchen, fiddling with his phone. He fired off a quick text to his sister (“Please don’t break anything”), then one to Jeff (“Of course I’ll drive you to Chicago. Sophie’s audition is the same day”), then flipped through Facebook. Nothing of note.

He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps. “Hey, babe, you came down to---oh. Um. Hi, Cooper.”

Cooper Anderson stood in the open archway that led to the hall, dressed casually, like he’d been loafing around all day—slightly oversized sweater, jeans, socks. His hair had apparently just been brushed back with his fingers. He had to admit, the guy looked like a goddamn Disney prince.

“I’m going to assume you were addressing my brother.”

“You would be right.” Sebastian thought about pocketing his phone. He was going to need all his attention and energy to keep from laughing at Cooper. He still hadn’t forgotten their ridiculous evening playing laser tag and the way Blaine described his “celebrity walk.” Finally, he decided to keep it on hand in case he had to signal for help.

“You call him ‘babe’ now?” Cooper walked in and leaned against the counter across from him, giving him what he probably thought was an intimidating stare. He overdid it.

“I call him lots of things.”  He added a suggestive smirk to the end of the sentence, just to see what would happen.

He knew it was the wrong decision when Cooper crossed his arms over his chest, squaring his shoulders. He should have known that Cooper would take anything he could perceive as sexual as an affront to his little brother. “Do you now.”

_Oh shit. He’s going into ‘protective big brother’ mode. Backtrack. Do it now. Do it faster!_

As much as he wanted to mess with Cooper—and he did, it was so easy—he knew that, if he was going to take dating Blaine seriously, he needed Cooper on his side. And he was going to be serious, goddammit. Even if it meant making friends with one of the most ridiculous men he had ever laid eyes on and not making sarcastic jokes at his expense.

It would be hard, but Sebastian was not one to back down from a challenge.

“I have a solid half-dozen nicknames for each of my friends,” he began in a cautious, placating tone. “Mostly I call him wonderboy, because, let’s face it, it’s Blaine.”

Cooper continued to stare him down for a long, tense moment. Sebastian bit his lip, trying as hard as he could to restrain the laughter that wanted to bubble up out of his chest. What Cooper thought was a fearsome stare just made him look slightly uncomfortable, like his shoes pinched.

“I used to call him ‘champ’ when he was little,” Cooper finally conceded. “Though wonderboy is appropriate.”

“I like to think so. I used to call him ‘killer’ but he absolutely _hates_ it, I can tell.”

“He would.” Cooper’s expression softened for a second, then he seemed to remember his objective and narrowed his eyes again. Sebastian repressed his snicker. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Blaine, actually.”

“Have you now?” _Alright. Heeeeeere we go._

“From what I gather, you two are dating now.”

Sebastian held up a ‘not so fast’ finger. “I can only confirm that we’ve been on one date. We were supposed to go on another today, but he’s not allowed out in polite company looking the way he does right now.”

“So, you two are…?” Cooper pointedly raised an eyebrow, trailing off to allow Sebastian to finish the sentence.

Sebastian bit his lip to restrain himself from making _all_ of the dirty jokes that immediately came to mind. (Seventeen. There were seventeen.) “Watching Disney movies. Well, he’s napping. I’m making him tea. Feel free to make jokes about me being whipped.”

There was a split second pause before Cooper grinned, his stance softening. “He turned the puppy eyes on you, didn’t he?”

Sebastian smiled back. “I can’t resist them.”

“I know. He perfected them when he was _three_. I can only imagine how effective they are when he’s sick.”

“They’re pretty effective.” At Cooper’s elbow, the kettle began to whistle, giving Sebastian the perfect opportunity to break eye contact and swallow down his giggles. He poured the tea, managing not to spill any on himself. (He had proven over the years to be a bit clumsy in the kitchen, with the burns and scars on his hands and forearms to prove it.) “Well, I better bring this up and make sure he hasn’t, you know, melted or fallen out of bed. Always good to see you, Cooper.”

Of course, Cooper wasn’t going to let him off so easily. He crossed his arms again and shifted so he blocked Sebastian’s path. “Not so fast.”

_Oh god, is this the mafia accent Blaine was talking about?_

“I want to know that your intentions regarding my brother are honorable.”

It was definitely the mafia accent Blaine had mentioned, and by god, was it terrible. He put the mug back down on the counter so he could cross his arms, too, mirroring Cooper’s stance.

He lasted three seconds before he felt dangerously close to bursting out laughing and thought fast. He glanced down at his phone. “Sorry. My older sister.” Cooper gave him a little nod, so he looked down and, using the distraction as a chance to calm himself, typed a quick distress message to Blaine. He was probably asleep again, but it was worth a shot. He pocketed the phone as quickly as possible. “Sorry. My intentions regarding your brother are perfectly honorable.” Cooper looked like he was about to interject, so he held up a finger again. “Just a second. He and I are, honestly, friends, and we have been on one date that….Well, I can’t say I did spectacularly well, but I did well enough that he agreed to a second. If you have any concerns about him, maybe you should ask him about it. Because other than the _incredibly_ unsexy head cold, he seems pretty happy.”

Cooper seemed to think that over for a moment, then gave him an approving nod. “I’ll do that.”

“I hope so. Feel free to give me the shovel talk at any time, though.” He picked up the mug of tea again and made a ‘cheers’ gesture. “Always a pleasure.”

 

~~~~

 

**202**

“I think your brother wants to kill me. Ooh, hello. No need to put your shirt on.”

Blaine, caught off-guard changing into fresher pajamas, turned away from his dresser, a new tee-shirt in hand. Sebastian stood there, mug of tea in his hand, a look of delighted surprise on his face. When his brain finally caught up, Blaine huffed and pulled the shirt over his head.

“Okay, fine, be that way. And here I thought you were going to reward me for taking care of you.”

Blaine flopped back down on his bed. “You are ridiculously full of yourself, you know that?”

Sebastian grinned as he crossed the room, holding out the mug of tea as a peace offering. “I’m well aware, but do feel free to remind me at any time.”

Blaine took the mug from him. “I felt really gross.”

Sebastian swatted at his hip, making him scoot over on the mattress so he could sit down next to him, swinging his long legs up. “You did _look_ pretty gross.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “If I wasn’t so happy with this tea I would smack you.”

“Please don’t pour it in my lap.”

“I’m tempted.”

“If I give you a Christmas present, will you forgive me and let me keep cuddling with you? I was sort of enjoying it. …Don’t tell anyone.”

Blaine blinked at him in surprise. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Sebastian Smythe? I mean, you’ve only made one pass at me, and I was shirtless. _Shirtless_.”

Sebastian fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. “You’re also…kind of…” He gestured in the vague direction of Blaine’s nose, which he realized suddenly was running.

“Oh god. I’m sorry. I’ll be back.”

Blaine practically leapt across Sebastian and out of the bed, dashing into his bathroom and slamming the door closed behind him. (He could still hear Sebastian laughing on the other side.) He knew his nose would be bright red and he’d look the exact opposite of sexy, but it was better than the alternative.

He emerged a few moments later, embarrassed. Sebastian had stretched out comfortably, all loose limbs and a casual smile. “Welcome back.”

“Sorry. That was really gross.”

“It was, but you _are_ sick, so I expected no less. Get back over here.”

Blaine obliged, but still felt awkward and kind of disgusting, despite the fresh shirt, washed face and clear nose. He sat tentatively on the edge of the mattress and was slowly scooting in when Sebastian huffed, hooked his arms around Blaine’s hips and waist, and pulled him practically into his lap. Blaine laughed despite himself, snuggling in jokingly, burying his face in Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Sebastian answered into his hair.

“Didn’t you say you had a present for me?”

Sebastian squeezed his side, tickling him, and laughed when he tried to wiggle away. “I’m sure I can find it here somewhere.”

Blaine smacked his shoulder playfully. “Stop it. I’m _way_ too sick to flirt with you.”

Sebastian just pulled him back in, stopping his fidgeting. “Ugh, _fine_ , I’ll stop.”

They sat that way for a long moment, Blaine still half in his lap, Sebastian’s face pressed into his hair.  “But seriously. Fresh clothes or not, I’m still a germ factory right now.”

Blaine grinned as Sebastian unceremoniously dumped him off his lap and into the piled blankets. “Ew. Stay over there while I find your present, then.”

“Fine. Then I won’t tell you that your present is on the nightstand. I mean, just in case you missed it.”

Sebastian looked up from his bag at the book-shaped wrapping paper on Blaine’s nightstand. It was metallic gold and had glittery green Christmas trees on it. “Oh my god, Blaine, only you could find that wrapping paper. Does it have _glitter_ on it? It has fucking glitter on it.” He smirked at Blaine’s cross face and flicked his similarly book-shaped gift over. It had crinkled even further from being carried over in his bag.

Blaine chuckled as he attempted to open a corner. “Who wrapped this for you?”

“Me. You can tell by the amount of tape,” Sebastian joked as he settled back. Blaine’s wrapping was, of course, impeccable, with sharp corners and discreetly taped edges.  He made a point of tearing it down the middle as he removed it.

He was momentarily stunned speechless when he saw what was inside. When he finally regained his voice (after what was only a couple of seconds but felt like an awkward, stumbling eternity), he could only manage, “How did you know?”

Blaine looked up, surprised, from the present, which he’d managed to wrestle open. There was some tape on his nose. “Know what?”

Sebastian reached over and removed the offending scrap of tape. “Good Omens? This is my favorite book, probably of all time.”

Blaine’s face fell. “So you already have it? I wanted to get you something you hadn’t read yet.”

“I’ve read it a million times, but I don’t have a copy. At least, not anymore. It got lost the last time we moved. I’ve been meaning to get a new one for the last year. How did you know?”

Blaine just shrugged, biting his lip like he was searching for words before settling on, “It just seemed like your sense of humor. But, now you have to explain to me why you got me this.”

“What about it? It’s a good book.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but coming from you… I mean first of all, it’s not porn. I don’t see how you can even make an innuendo out of this.” He turned the cover of his gift—a copy of Catch-22—toward Sebastian as if to better display its lack of sex appeal.

“Some gratitude. You could at least give me a thank-you kiss.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, then leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Blaine. Now, let’s get you comfortable so I can feel you up while we watch a movie.”

Blaine picked the movie (Sebastian wasn’t allowed to complain) and they settled in, burrowing under the layers of blankets to get comfortable and warm. Blaine lay with his head on Sebastian’s shoulder and his arm around his waist, letting Sebastian idly run his fingers through his hair. The soothing touch had him drifting off almost immediately, until he realized something that made him wake right back up.

“Did we seriously give each other _books_ for Christmas?”

“Hush. No we didn’t.”

 

~~~~

 

**203**

Sebastian slipped out the front door around 8:30 and was halfway down the street when the Anderson’s car passed his. He allowed himself a slow release of breath as their headlights washed over him.

The night was icy and brittle with snow waiting to fall, and his breath still hung in the air in front of him as the heater cranked to life.  He was grateful for the cold, though, because the frozen roads gave him an excuse to drive slowly.

He didn’t know what to think about, at first, so for two blocks he tried flipping radio stations to drown out his racing thoughts. Still, one word kept trying to emerge through the music.

He wouldn’t let it form.

He ignored it.

He blasted the music.

He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

He wouldn’t think about it.

The word was love.

He wouldn’t think about it.

He wouldn’t.

 

~~~~

 

**204**

It took Blaine another full day to sleep off the cold, but when he woke up on the morning of the twenty-ninth, he felt strangely well. The brilliant winter sun shone in bright slices through his blinds, warming the chill morning.

That is, until he realized what day it was. It was the day Kurt was leaving for Chicago. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a nice day, after all.

Still, he had made a promise, and he dragged himself out of bed and dressed. His legs felt heavy and uncoordinated as he stepped into his jeans. His arms flopped down at his sides as he put on his coat. Tying his shoelaces seemed an insurmountable feat.

He left a note on the kitchen table before leaving the house and getting into his car. He turned up the radio as he sat and waited for the heat to kick on—he didn’t think music would make him feel better, but it was worth a shot.

The drive was too long: too long because it allowed the jittery nervousness time to make his legs and fingers tremble, too long because he had the time to consume himself with worry and regret.

He felt too many things at once. It was a common problem for him—he had been emotional from childhood. He felt a thousand things at once for every person in his life: combinations of love, frustration, admiration and things he couldn’t even name.

And he felt a million things at once for Kurt. There was love, of course; he believed with his whole heart that a person never got over their first love. Then there was sadness and regret and a little, unjustified-but-still-there anger. There were other things he’d never quite be able to put a finger on, which didn’t make them any less potent.

On top of everything else, there was the previously-unfathomable fact that he was going to have a Life Without Kurt. He’d stumbled through the past six months blithely ignoring the fact that it would eventually happen. Even after they’d broken up, he’d simply ignored the fact that Kurt had taken the job in Chicago and would be moving away, perhaps for a long time. Perhaps permanently. He didn’t want to think about it, so he simply hadn’t. And there he was, in the car on the way to their goodbye.

And suddenly, there he was. He came out of his reminiscence as he turned onto Kurt’s street, eyes already scanning ahead for the familiar house. The one that, not too long ago, had often felt more like home than his own.

Kurt was in the driveway, bundled up in his favorite bright red coat as he loaded something into his (still hilariously out of character) SUV. As Blaine pulled closer to the house, he saw that Dave was already there, too, a large moving box in his arms.

He parked on the street, resisting the sudden urge to turn the car around and head directly back to his bedroom, pull the blankets over his head and pretend this wasn’t happening. He allowed himself one deep, steadying breath before he grabbed the gift bag from the passenger seat and got out.

Kurt waved him up as soon as he got out of the car and into the crystal-clear chill of the morning, and Blaine happily walked right into his open arms. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you,” Kurt said right above his ear, then backed up so they could look at each other. “Thank you so much for coming by.”

Blaine wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that, so he only managed an awkward “of course” before catching sight of Dave, standing awkwardly with his hands in his coat pockets. He turned to give him the “bro hug,” feeling Dave’s tension in the just-a-bit-too-hard thumps on his back.

“It’s good to see you, Dave.”

“Yeah, uh, you too.”

“Alright, you two, stop it,” Kurt interrupted sarcastically, gently tapping Blaine on the shoulder. “This morning is about me, remember?”

They both laughed along with the joke and Blaine presented his gift with a flourish. “Sorry, I guess I forgot. But here, please take this gift as an apology.” He grinned, dropping the act. “It’s snacks for the road. I know your junk food weaknesses, don’t even _try_ to deny it.”

Kurt glanced up from where he was rifling through the bag (halfway full of miniature bags of a weird brand of guacamole flavored chip that were in no way healthy, organic, natural, or even made of real food) and they exchanged knowing winks.

“So,” Blaine began, struggling to find something to say. “It looks like you’re almost ready to go.”

“Yeah,” Kurt replied as he stowed the gift bag in the passenger seat. “Pretty much. Just…” He gave a trying-too-hard casual shrug. “Goodbyes, I guess.”

Blaine took the initiative and took a discreet step back so Kurt could hug Dave, who looked upset, first. He checked his phone for a moment in order to give them some privacy. (One message from Tina, confirming their New Year’s Eve plans; one from Sam, cracking a stupid joke; and one from Sebastian that he decided he would answer later.)

When Dave stepped back from the little circle he’d formed with Kurt and took a few steps away, Blaine knew it was his turn to do the one thing he wasn’t prepared for. He didn’t have much time to hesitate, though—Kurt bundled him back into his arms, squeezing him tighter and holding him there longer. Blaine was instantly biting back tears as he wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist. He was determined not to cry. If he started to cry, he’d be a full-on mess within minutes.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” From the thick sound of Kurt’s voice, he was tearing up too. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Really. I’m so happy for you. You’re going to be amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m just trying not to give into the mind-numbing terror of moving away. I made my dad promise me he’d make sure I actually got in the car.”

Though he delivered the last bit with a smile, Blaine could tell that Kurt wasn’t _completely_ kidding. He tried to give his most reassuring smile. “Stop. You’re definitely going, and you’re going to have a ridiculously amazing life in Chicago. _And_ ,” he prompted, gently teasing, “you’re going to come back and visit.”

Kurt smiled. “And I’m going to come back and visit in the spring. I’m not sure when, yet. But I’ll let you know?”

“Please. I’ll miss you a lot.”

Over Kurt’s shoulder, he glimpsed Mr. Hummel emerging from the front door. That meant it was almost time for Kurt to leave and that their time together, far too short and, at the same time, an agony, was coming to an end.

“Hey, Blaine,” Kurt’s father greeted him as he approached, and Blaine reluctantly released Kurt’s hands to give him a hug.

“Hi, Mr. Hummel.” (He’d never gotten over his initial good manners, despite constant protests of “For god’s sake, Blaine, call me Burt, it’s okay.”) “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, kid. Thanks for swinging by.”

Blaine felt his throat tightening against tears, so he didn’t reply as Mr. Hummel slung an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Almost ready, Kurt?”

Kurt managed a small smile, though his eyes had begun to well up, and that told Blaine it was his time to leave and let them be alone. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s arm gently. “I’ve got to get going. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“I will. And I’ll see you in the spring.”

“Promise?”

Kurt’s smile was forced and tearful, but Blaine believed him when he answered, “Promise.”

 

~~~~

 

**205**

Blaine was aiming for a quick escape—hopefully before his vision got too blurry and he started crying like a baby—but as he approached his car, he saw that Dave was still sitting in his truck. It was just far enough down the street from Kurt’s house—and concealed behind a large enough tree—that no one could have seen him until they walked right up.

He hesitated as he approached, trying to decide whether to pretend he didn’t see the look on Dave’s face and get into his car, which was parked right behind the truck, or stop to talk to him.

His desire to help won out and he approached slowly, then knocked lightly on the driver’s side window. Dave looked shocked, but rolled it down.

“Um.” Blaine realized, painfully, that he didn’t know what to say. “Are you alright?”

Dave’s carefully blank face said it all. “Not really.”

“Would you want to go get some coffee and talk about it?” It was a huge stretch with his and Dave’s history, but it was worth a shot. Maybe it would help him feel better.

He was slow to react. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be cool. Jump in.”

The first thing Blaine thought when he climbed up into the passenger seat was that it was surprisingly clean, for a high school guy’s pickup truck. He had been half-expecting to kick trash out of the way just to find a place for his feet, but then, he realized with a little stab of guilt, he’d only expected that because he had always thought of Dave as the “dumb jock” type, with attendant bad habits. He’d been wrong about a _lot_ of things.

They were silent and solemn on the drive to the Lima Bean, both lost in their thoughts, and stayed that way until they’d gotten their coffees and sat down at a table in the far corner, where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke—then their eyes met and they both chuckled awkwardly, which loosened Blaine up enough to finally ask, “So, how are you?”

Dave shrugged. “Well, I mean, today sucks, obviously. But other than that, things have been going okay for me. I guess.”

“So Dalton’s working out well for you?”

Dave shrugged at first, then tried for a half grin. “Yeah. It sucks being a super senior, but those guys are really cool. They help me out a lot with school stuff and being in the Warblers, and that makes it, you know, it’s okay.”

“I can’t believe they played pranks on you.”

Dave chuckled. “I kind of can’t either. I still owe Nick and Jeff big time. But it helped me feel like I was part of the group, in a weird way. Being in the songs is cool and all, but it’s nice to have friends I can joke around with like that.” He thought for a second, then chuckled. “I still can’t _believe_ they let me in the Warblers, though. Nobody saw that coming.”

Blaine chuckled too. “I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised.”

“I know, right? I can sing. I mean, sort of. Not really. I can try really hard.”

“Oh, come on. I loved your audition. It was so”—

“Completely out of character?” Dave interrupted with a smile.

“Yes. But in the best way. You can _ballroom dance._ Who knew you could ballroom dance?”

Dave laughed again, louder and fuller this time. “I sure as hell didn’t! I thought for sure I was going to screw up or drop Sophie or forget all the words. How I decided that singing _Sinatra_ was a good idea, I’ll never understand.”  
“It worked.”

“It was pretty fun. I think if I can keep it up the rest of the year, you know, getting out there and doing crazy stuff like that….” He shrugged, but Blaine could see the natural, unbidden smile forming. “I might actually be okay.”

“I’m glad, Dave. Really. It’s so good to see you happy.”  
“Thanks. I know we were never friends. I didn’t exactly deserve to be your friend…you know, before. But that means a lot to me.”

“You’re going to kick this year’s _ass_.”

Dave let out a shocked laugh. “Oh my god, you spend too much time with Sebastian. That was amazing.”

Blaine chuckled, looking down at his coffee when he realized he was blushing. He was about to come back with a witty retort (he had to have one _somewhere_ ) when he heard what sounded like a muffled ringtone of “Born to Run.”

“Oh my god, sorry.” Dave sheepishly dug into his jacket pocket, producing a cracked and battered phone. “It’s my dad. I should probably get back, we were supposed to do something later.”

“Oh. No problem.”

“Can I at least drive you back to your car?”

“I would appreciate that, thanks. It’s _cold_.”

“Yeah. Um.” Dave stopped for a minute, looking at Blaine in a way he was always avoiding. Straight on. Sincere. Open, and vulnerable in a way—no looking down or above his head to avoid his eyes. “Thanks. For this.”

“You’re welcome. We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah. That would be cool.”

 

~~~~

 

**206**

Blaine was starting to wonder why Sebastian hadn’t texted him for two whole days when, like magic, his phone lit up.

 **Sebastian:** So you can let me know if this is too much or whatever, but Cassie asked me to invite you to dinner.

 **Sebastian:** At her place, I mean.

 **Sebastian:** With all of us. Her, Katie, Sophie, you, me.

 **Sebastian:** If you want to. If you don’t, that’s totally fine. She’ll understand.

 **Blaine** : Um, hi. Sorry, I went to reply to your first text and then there was a barrage of them.

 **Sebastian:** Yeah. Sorry.

 **Blaine** : Are you nervous or do you not want me to go? I can’t tell.

 **Sebastian:** I don’t DO nervous, Blaine.

 **Blaine** : Oh that’s funny. Because I can name at least three incidents in the last MONTH where that wasn’t true.

 **Sebastian:** Oh my god, fine. I’m a little nervous.

 **Blaine** : Why? It’s just me.

 **Sebastian:** Yes but

 **Sebastian:** I mean

 **Sebastian:** This is sort of dangerously close to meeting my family

 **Sebastian:** I mean you essentially would be meeting my family.

 **Sebastian:** And this is crazy

 **Sebastian:** I never do this. This never happens

 **Blaine** : We are crossing into dangerous, uncharted territory.

 **Sebastian:** Don’t make this any worse than it already is. This is embarrassing and terrible.

 **Blaine** : I’m starting to think I should be offended.

 **Sebastian:** Oh my god stop

**Sebastian:** Blaine, do you want to come to dinner with me and my sisters at Cassie’s place?

 **Blaine** : Yes. Oh my god, yes.

 **Sebastian:** …Are you sure?

 **Blaine** : Absolutely sure.

 **Sebastian:** Because really, I won’t be offended if you don’t want to.

 **Blaine** : I’ve already met one sister. On multiple occasions. You’ll recall she even kissed me once. I think I can handle Cassie.

 **Sebastian:** Yes but… it’s Cassie.

 **Blaine** : The one with her own apartment, a healthy, well-cared for child, and a successful business? I think I’m good.

 **Sebastian:** Ok, I guess that’s a good point.

 **Sebastian:** Um

 **Sebastian:** Does the 3rd work for you? I’ll drive.

 **Blaine** : That sounds perfect.

 **Sebastian:** Okay.

 **Blaine** : Okay.

 **Sebastian:** Oh for fuck’s sake don’t start that.

 **Blaine** : Oh stop. I was trying to agree with you!

 **Sebastian:** I’m ending this conversation. It’s over. I can’t handle it anymore.

 **Blaine** : Okay. Goodnight, Sebastian.

 

~~~~

 

**207**

Nick was asleep long before the clock changed and the new year rolled in, his head tucked into Jeff’s shoulder, the empty bowl of snacks forgotten at his feet, but Jeff didn’t care. There would be other New Year’s Eves, years where he went out and partied and acted like an idiot, years where he stayed in and cuddled, years, maybe, where his kids insisted on staying up but he missed midnight because he was putting them to bed.

This year, though, the tv volume was down low as New York City sang “Auld Lang Syne,” Nick’s hand was draped carelessly across his leg, and the couch in the Duval’s house was a comfortable enough place to sleep. He hummed along quietly, reaching up to gently rub Nick’s head. His boyfriend ( _boyfriend, oh god_ ) stirred, rubbing his eyes and mumbling a little.

“Hey,” Jeff whispered. “You missed it.”

Nick groaned and squeezed his eyes tighter together. “Aww, man. I always sleep right through it.”

Jeff chuckled. “It’s okay. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what I’ve been saying since I was seven.”

“Well, next year we’ll do it right. We’ll go out and be crazy and stay up until dawn.”

Nick yawned and snuggled in closer. “Sounds good.”

Jeff just nodded as he shifted to make them both more comfortable. “You know what?”

Nick, already asleep again, just managed a “hmm?” sound.

“I think this is going to be our year.”

 

~~~~

 

**208**

There was no gallant knock on the door the afternoon Sebastian arrived to bring Blaine out to dinner. He was startled out of his frantic attempt to finish dressing (he had gone through five different outfits before settling on one that would just have to be good enough) by the sound of a car horn in his driveway.

Shocked, he grabbed his phone and dashed downstairs, socked feet pounding as he yelled to his parents that he was going out for the evening and would probably be late.

His father had already opened the front door by the time he got there. _Oh, god_.

“What in the hell is that noise?”

Desperately trying to pull his shoes on (hopping on one foot with a hand on the wall for balance), Blaine could see Sebastian standing in the driveway, car door open, looking surprised.

“Oh. Um, hi! I’m Sebastian, I’m here to pick up Blaine.”

Blaine’s father responded in a tone he knew well—the one he used when he wanted to sound intimidating, but was enjoying himself so much he barely resists laughing out loud. He used it on Cooper a lot. “Well, the least you could do is come up to the door and say hello.”

Sebastian wasn’t fooled. “I totally would, but it’s never a good idea to leave my sister alone in a car.”

Blaine heard Sophie’s huge laugh all the way in the house.

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s actually my twin. She’s just sneaky and likes to steal things.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“Cross I must bear. Hi, Blaine.”

Blaine dashed under his father’s outstretched arm, still buttoning his coat, one shoe untied. “Bye, dad. I told you, I’m going to dinner at his older sister’s place in Columbus. He’ll drive me back. I’ll be pretty late. I have my phone.”

He watched, nervous, as his father looked between him and Sebastian, then glanced over at Sophie as she emerged from the passenger seat. She waved, then shouted, “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him,” before disappearing into the back seat in a torrent of giggles.

He really, _really_ hated the Smythes sometimes.

Sebastian was trying his hardest to keep from laughing, which Blaine would have appreciated had he not wanted to kick him in the shins so badly.

“Ready?”

“Did you seriously just sit in my driveway and honk your horn? Is this a bad 80’s romantic comedy? I do not answer to car horns.” He emphasized his disgust by tapping Sebastian on the chest with the bright bunch of flowers he had bought for Cassie earlier that afternoon. An orange petal stuck to Sebastian’s dark green sweater.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Sebastian responded with his best ‘I’m doing this just to annoy you and am _SO_ happy it’s working’ grin. “Jump in, it’s a long drive.”

He huffed and stomped over to the passenger side, dropping into the seat and sitting with his nose up, turned away from Sebastian, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. Do you have any idea how long it will take to convince Cassie that this isn’t some sort of weird joke if you show up angry at me? _Hours_.”

Blaine stayed that way until Sebastian backed the car out of the driveway and started down the street. It was fun to make him sweat, but there was only so far he could take it before it got weird. As soon as they were out of sight of his house, he turned and leaned to give Sebastian a quick peck on the cheek, causing him to smile and Sophie to giggle in the back seat.

“Hi, Sebastian.”

“Hi, Blaine.”

He was suddenly enveloped from behind by Sophie’s arms, squeezing his shoulders as she kissed his cheek. “Hi, Sophie.”

“Hi Blaine. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Blaine laughed. “The two of you keep saying that. Should I be worried?”

Back in her seat, Sophie fluffed her hair. “Oh my god, you should be _terrified_.”

“ _Sophie_ ,” Sebastian warned her from the driver’s seat, even as he kept his eyes adamantly on the road.

“Sorry. Just teasing. Cassie is going to _love_ you.”

“Okay, because you were making it sound like I should be afraid.”

“There’s really no reason for you to be afraid,” Sebastian interjected before his sister could open her mouth. “Not _you,_ anyway,” he added under his breath.

“Sebastian. I _have_ already met and dealt with Sophie. Many times. I half expect her to show up at my house, I see her so often. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think I can handle Cassie.”

“You say that now,” Sophie teased from the back seat.

“ _Sophie_.” Sebastian’s eyes were still glued to the road, and his jaw was starting to tense. Blaine saw how nervous he was and laid a gentle hand on Sebastian’s arm, giving him a reassuring smile when he glanced over.

“Alright, if you think I need to worry, then we have about, what, an hour? What do I need to be prepared for?”

“Oh my god, what _don’t_ you need to be prepared for? She’s a Smythe, for god’s sake.”

“She _is_ a lot like the two of us,” Sebastian agreed with a shrug. “Sarcasm is our third language.”

“But she’s a lot nicer,” Sophie added.

“A _lot_ nicer. Bringing flowers is a solid move, by the way. She eats that old-fashioned romance up.”

“It’s the French girl in her,” Sophie agreed. “Speaking of which, be prepared for air kisses.”

“ _Tons_ of air kisses. Honestly, just wait it out. It’s a thing she does.”

“You two never do that, though.”

“ _Hell_ no we don’t.”

Sophie laughed. “Neither of us could pull it off. It takes a certain… I don’t know, charm? to pull that off without looking ridiculous.”

“Cassie did get all the charm.”  
Blaine wrinkled his eyebrows in doubt—if there was one thing the Smythe twins had in spades, it was charm. “If she got all the charm, what did you two get?”

“Snark,” Sebastian answered without pause.

“Cynicism,” Sophie added.

“Pretentiousness.”

“Stubbornness.”

“And don’t forget the ability to turn _anything_ into a dirty joke,” Sebastian concluded. “Though

maybe that’s just me.”

“I got a little of that too, I just have boundaries,” Sophie teased, poking her brother in the ribs. He laughed and swatted her hand playfully.

Blaine laughed along. “So in summary, she’s fantastic and I’m going to be fine, right?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be fine,” Sebastian agreed. “Me, on the other hand… I’m in all sorts of trouble.”

 

~~~~

 

**209**

They parked on a block of brick townhouses and climbed over the heaps of snow piled at the curb (Sebastian, cursing, missed his footing and ended up ankle deep in slush). Sophie led the way up the front steps of one of the buildings, then they all filed up the narrow indoor staircase to the second floor. Blaine could hear music drifting out of all three of the upstairs apartments—reggaeton made the floor buzz a little under his shoes, he could just faintly hear something classical playing from the door on the left, and Tom Waits sang somewhere in the center apartment--#5, the door of which Sebastian knocked on.

“Who is it?” a woman inside shouted.

Sebastian leaned into the door so he could be heard. “Excuse me miss, do you have a minute to talk about our lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

A big Smythe laugh replied from somewhere inside. “It’s open!”

Sebastian opened the door and gestured them inside with an overdone sweep of his arm, still chuckling a little at himself.

They barely got inside when Katie came toward them full tilt, stomping in the awkward dinosaur way of little kids. Sebastian stepped forward to scoop her up.

“Hi, koala bear.” He kissed her round cheek. “I missed you.” She giggled and kissed him back.

“Hi, Bas.” She reached over when she saw Sophie, chubby arms begging to be hugged. “Fifi!”

Sophie laughed and took her from Sebastian, cuddling the little girl affectionately. “Hello, my little munchkin.”

“Hi, Fifi.” Katie snuggled in, burying her face in Sophie’s scarf.

Sebastian laughed. “I can’t _believe_ she still calls you that.”

“I know, I can’t believe I let her.” Sophie kissed the toddler’s blonde hair. “It’s just so freakin’ _cute_.”

“You made it!” The joyful shout from the hallway interrupted them. “I’m so glad the three of you are here. Was the drive okay?”

Cassie Smythe did not look the least bit like Blaine expected her to. In fact, it took him a second to reconcile that the three siblings in front of him were even related. She was tiny—shorter even than Blaine, and probably a full foot shorter than Sebastian, forcing her to stand on her toes as she went to hug him. And unlike the twins, who were rail-thin and all angular knees and elbows, Cassie was plump and curvy, with wide hips and a full bosom. The first thought that came to Blaine’s mind when he saw her, in a full-skirted, polka dot dress mostly concealed by an apron, was that he wanted to hug her.

Her face—round, full-lipped, accented by her large eyes and surrounded by wavy brown hair—lit up when she looked at him. She smiled and opened her arms to him immediately. When she hugged him, up on her toes just the slightest bit, he was enveloped in the smell of something sugary and rich, like she’d been baking dessert.

“Hi, Blaine, sweetheart,” she greeted him after the promised air kisses on each cheek. “I’m so glad to finally meet you! I’ve heard so many good things from my little brother.”

Over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Sebastian looking embarrassed.

“Come in, come in! Dinner is almost ready.”

Blaine was still getting over the mental disconnect ( _oh my god she’s adorable this is weird_ ), so he couldn’t even manage a step forward into the apartment. “I. Um. I brought you these,” he managed, presenting the bundle of orange gerbera daisies.

“Oh my god, you even brought me flowers!” She took them and kissed his cheek with delight. “Sebastian, I like him already.”

“I told you you would, didn’t I? He loves all that romantic crap. I’ll be surprised if you don’t try to marry him before the end of the night.”

Cassie giggled. “Do you think you could give me a hand with dinner, sweetie? I don’t trust these two idiots anywhere _near_ my kitchen.”

Sebastian winked at Blaine as he took his coat, swatting him gently on the butt with it. “Well, get in there. Work your magic.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

****Warning: The aftermath of Jeff getting kicked out in 213.** **

 

**210**

Cassie had the cutest apartment Blaine had ever set foot in, and that was _really_ saying something. It wasn’t just the kid’s toys scattered around the living room (though the combination of trucks and teddy bears was amusing) or the brightly colored walls (aqua blue, mint green). It was the mismatched, make-it-work atmosphere more than anything: cheap furniture disguised with crocheted doilies, paintings of flowers hung at varying levels and angles. The kitchen was tiny, with barely enough room for a refrigerator (covered in photos and toddler drawings) and an oven, with sunshine yellow walls.

“I _love_ your apartment,” he couldn’t help but gush. “It’s so colorful!”

Cassie smiled appreciatively, slipping her arm through his. “Thank you, darling. Though the credit for the color goes to the twins. And having an adorable small child certainly helps.” She took up a place in front of the stove and gestured toward a chair nearby. “Sit. I’m going to interrogate you now.”

“Oh god, they warned me about this,” Blaine said, laughing. “Are you going to give me the shovel talk? There seems to be a lot of that going around lately.”

Cassie laughed too. “I should totally try. I don’t think it would work, though, I mean I’m dressed like a 1950’s housewife.”

“Which may trick the outside observer,” Sebastian interrupted dryly, “but those of us who actually know you aren’t fooled. Did you get more paintings? It seems like there are more since the last time I looked.”

“ _Maman_ sent them to me. Well, technically she sent them to all three of us, but I know your opinions about her taste in art, so I kept them.”

“Solid call.” Sebastian stretched to open a cabinet above the refrigerator, producing a clear glass vase. “Thought you might want to get those in water.” He took the daises from his sister and busied himself with unwrapping the cellophane around them, turning his back on Blaine in an “I’m not eavesdropping” move.

“Okay, so,” Cassie began. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Um. Well. That’s sort of difficult, I mean, it sounds like Sebastian has told you quite a bit about me already.”

Cassie giggled as she lifted the lid from a pot and dunked a spoon into it. She tasted it, then tossed the spoon easily across the kitchen and into the sink. “He’s certainly talked about you a _lot_ , though with him being a boy and a bit of an idiot, I’m _dying_ for details. All I know is that you used to go to Dalton and now you’re in the show choir at another school… McKinley? McKinley, right?”

“Right.”

“So, what else do you like to do besides show choir? You must have _some_ other hobby. Wait, let me guess. You play at least four different instruments, don’t you?”

Blaine chuckled. “I do. Piano, guitar, violin, and drums.”

“Holy crap, I didn’t actually expect to be _right_. So okay, four instruments, plus obviously you sing and dance.”

“I sing, yeah, but I’m not a great dancer. Do you know Sebastian’s friend Jeff? I’m not _nearly_ as good as him. I pretty much stand aside and watch in awe whenever he dances.”

“He’s the blond one, right? With the hair that does the thing?” She ran a hand over one eye, imitating Jeff’s bangs.

Sebastian laughed in the doorway. Both Blaine and Cassie shot him a look.

“That’s him. I think he said he’s applying to Juilliard for next year,” Blaine answered, “and I can’t think of anyone more qualified. He was the only reason I could keep up with the Warblers. When I first transferred I could barely manage the two-step. It was embarrassing.”

“I trip over my own feet whenever I try to dance, so I get that.” Cassie giggled. “I have no idea where the twins get that ability from, but I certainly didn’t get any. Though to be fair, neither of them can cook to save their lives.”

“Hey, I can so,” Sebastian interjected.

“Sweetie… You burned soup.”

Sebastian frowned. “That was _one time_. And I was _ten._ ”

“Anyway, Blaine. Speaking of Juilliard, as we were before my little brother so rudely interrupted us,” she pointedly raised an eyebrow at Sebastian, who put up his hands in surrender, “You’ve probably got fifty schools lined up, right?”

“Not really. I’m finishing up all my applications, but honestly I feel like they’re all longshots. NYADA’s my top choice, and I kind of waver between feeling like, yeah, I can totally do this and wondering how I ever thought it was a good idea.”

She smiled sympathetically. “I totally get that. But I don’t think it’s as much of a longshot as you think—Sebastian has told me how talented you are. That’s rare, especially in someone as young as you are.”

“Cassie, _please_ ,” Sebastian interrupted dryly from the doorway. He had picked up Katie and balanced her easily on one hip, the girl clutching the neck of his sweater. “You’re not that much older than us. Just because you have an adorable baby doesn’t make you the authority on being a grownup.”

Cassie stuck her tongue out at him. Katie giggled and returned the face. “Hush. If you don’t like what I have to say, maybe you should stop eavesdropping.”

Sebastian made a face back and turned away, focusing his attention on Katie as he disappeared into the living room.

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” Cassie sighed overdramatically. “Now that he’s gone I can talk about him all I want. So, he told me you went on a date. How badly did he screw it up?”

Blaine was so surprised he burst out laughing. “He actually didn’t. It was nice.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow at him, then made an impatient ‘well, go on then’ gesture.

“We went to dinner at this really cute little café. The one that has all the fancy coffee drinks?” Cassie nodded approvingly. “Then we went to see _Skyfall_. He really tried. He opened doors for me and everything.”

Cassie whirled back from the stove in shock. “He did _what?_ ”

“He opened doors for me. I know, right? I mean, he made a pass at me every ten minutes or so, but I expect that from him by now. He does that in normal conversation. But we talked a lot and he was really sweet and I had a lot of fun.”

“Wow. So are you going to give him a shot at a second date, then?”

“We were supposed to go already, but I got sick. I’ve just been trying to figure out a time to reschedule.”

“Holy cow.” Cassie leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “My little brother actually getting a second date. I’m shocked.”

Blaine chuckled. “That’s kind of mean.”

“And he’s kind of a dumbass. But he’s learning. I’m proud of him.”

“He’s definitely making the effort. And I’m keeping him in line.”

Cassie laughed a big, full belly laugh that reminded him of Sophie. “Well thank god somebody is, because I have my hands full over here. Between Katie, my employees, my new intern, and those two idiots over there, sometimes I feel like I’m raising ten or twelve kids instead of just one.”

“Well, you seem to be doing an awesome job with the one. She’s just about the sweetest little girl in the world. And I don’t know your bakery, but Sebastian talks about your cupcakes like they’re some sort of religion, so you’re doing something right there.”

“Oh my god. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. _Sebastian!_ ”

From the living room: “Yeah?”

“I’m starting a religion based around my cupcakes! It was Blaine’s idea!”

Still from the living room: “Yes! Best. Idea. Ever.”

Cassie turned back to Blaine, lowering her voice to its normal level (which was just _slightly_ louder than most people). “He has such a sweet tooth. He denies it, but he does.”

“He told me about his love of marshmallows.”

“He told you that? Damn. I’m surprised. He likes to pretend he was no weaknesses.” She looked at him for a long moment, an approving grin slowly forming on her face. “I like you, Blaine,” she finally pronounced, as if coming to an important decision. “I’m glad you came over. And speaking of which, dinner should be ready.”

 

~~~~

 

**211**

Cassie sent Blaine over to the dinner table—which had been set with orange and yellow placemats that perfectly matched the vase of gerbera daisies he had brought over—with two full plates. Sophie took one from him, shooting him a “so, how did it go?” look. He replied with a grin and a thumbs up. She smiled and gave him a high five with her free hand.

Sebastian, still carrying Katie as he came around the corner from the living room, saw and raised an eyebrow, but was distracted when Cassie poked him in the elbow with a plate.

“Oh, awesome. This is all okay for Katie to eat, right?”

“Yeah, just cut it up for her. You know the drill. I put you next to her high chair.”

“You say that like she’ll actually agree to sit anywhere except with me. Isn’t that right, koala bear? You wanna sit with Uncle Bas.” Katie smiled and cooed in agreement, which seemed to settle the matter with Sebastian, who plopped gracelessly in his chair with her on his lap and set to tying her bib under her chin.

Blaine offered to help bring more things from the kitchen, but the girls were leaning together over the stove and giggling, so he decided the best course of action was to stay out of their conversation. There were only a few things they’d be talking about, and he was at the top of that list.

He sat down across from Sebastian, who was busy cutting his plate of pasta into Katie-sized bites. The toddler was helping with a purple plastic spoon.

Sebastian caught Blaine’s eye. “What?”

“I’m sorry. This is so weird.”

Sebastian grinned. “What’s weird about it? Despite with you probably think, I’m _great_ with kids. Of course it helps that Katie is just about the cutest thing in the world, but the point remains the same—ow! Okay, she’s adorable _except_ when she’s stabbing me with a spoon. I swear, I’m signing this kid up for fencing lessons next year.”

“Sebastian, seriously, what have I told you about teaching her to stab people?” Cassie scolded as she emerged from the kitchen, salad bowl in hand. She’d taken off her apron, revealing a line of red buttons down the front of her dress, matching the kitten heeled pumps she wore on her feet.

Sebastian chuckled. “Not to.”

“Right. Now behave.”

They passed the salad bowl and a basket of bread around. The meal was simple but delicious, and Blaine watched with amusement as Sebastian dug in happily, alternating bites between his fork and Katie’s spoon, which she kept shoving in his face.

“Sophie, Blaine and I got talking about college applications,” Cassie piped up after a moment. “How is your audition piece going? When we talked at Christmas you seemed nervous.”

Sophie groaned. “Oh my god, do I _have_ to talk about it? I feel like I spend ninety-five percent of my _life_ in a borderline panic over that damn two minutes.”

“I thought your friend Jeff was helping you.”

“Yeah, and I spend the other five percent of my time calming _him_ down. Going with a contemporary piece was a total no-brainer for him but I feel like running away and joining the circus half the time.”

Cassie laughed. “Okay, I get it, we’ll change the subject. Sebastian.”

Sebastian looked up from where he’d been diverting Katie’s spoon from splattering his sweater with pasta sauce. “Yeah. Still not telling you what program I’m applying for at NYU. Feel free to bribe me with cupcakes, though. You never know when it’ll work.”

“I did bring some for you,” Cassie admitted. “As if I could send you away without them. Speaking of which, have I told you about my new intern?”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Bakeries have interns?”

Cassie winked. “They do when rich high school girls need something to do on weekends. Actually, Blaine, now that I think about it, she goes to school at McKinley. She’s a senior. Do you know Sugar Motta?”

Blaine blinked at her in surprise. “Sugar? Oh my god, _you hired Sugar Motta_?” His brain caught up with his mouth as he remembered the huge box of cupcakes she’d brought to Tina’s party. “Wait. Wait a second, _you_ own Tresor? The place that sells everything in the cute little striped boxes?”

Cassie laughed and pointed at Sebastian. “I _told_ you those were a good idea.”

Sebastian made a gesture of surrender. “And once again, I concede the point. You were totally right.”

“But yes, I own Tresor. Or, you know, my friends and I do.”

“I didn’t know Sugar worked there, but she brought a bunch of your cupcakes one day. I think I ate a dozen of them by myself.”

Sebastian laughed. “Done that.”

“Which was your favorite? And be honest, these two are always sucking up to get more free food.” Sophie stuck her tongue out at that remark, and Sebastian mouthed ‘we totally do.’

“I loved the ones with the peanut butter cups in them. And the lemon.”

“Those are my favorite,” Sophie agreed. “We’ve tried to make them a few times. Never turned out the same.”

“That’s because you insist on covering them in chocolate icing, which is _weird_.” Sebastian made a face.

Cassie rubbed her eyes. “Oh my god, you two are like children. Stop it. We have a guest.”

Blaine stifled a laugh. “Oh no, please don’t stop on my account. This is hilarious.”

Cassie shook her head with mock seriousness. “They’re an embarrassment.”

“Stop, you love us. If only for the free babysitting,” Sebastian added as Katie, with all the grace of being two, shoved a tomato-sauce splattered hand in his face. He pulled his napkin from his lap and wiped her hands and cheeks, making faces at her all the while. “You are one _messy_ baby, Katie-bug. Yes, you are, don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re welcome to take her off my hands this week,” Cassie suggested with a smile that said she was only half joking. “I don’t know how engagement cakes became a thing, but apparently right after New Year’s is, like, _the_ season for engagements and we’re swamped for the next two weeks.”

“As much as I would love to,” Sebastian began with a raised eyebrow, trying to get a smudge of spaghetti sauce off his sweater, “and you know I would, and Dave would probably love it, I have a feeling there are rules against smuggling small children into my dorm. Just a hunch.”

“Oh that’s right, how _is_ your roommate? Is he doing well?”

“He’s great. Kicking all sorts of ass. He even auditioned for a solo at Regionals and I think”—he made eye contact with Blaine and immediately changed the subject. “And I’m totally not giving away how it went in front of my competition. But he’s doing well. He says thanks for sending him that box of cookies.”

“And he’s very welcome. I have a bunch more for you to bring back. And some for you, Blaine, of course.”

“Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

“Don’t mention it, darling. Consider it a thank you gift for putting up with my brother.”

Blaine smiled. “It’s not so much ‘putting up with him’ anymore.”

The remark seemed to make her very happy. “Well, I’m glad you’re here all the same.”

 

~~~~

 

**212**

They didn’t hang out for very long after dinner, since the drive back to Westerville was so long and it looked ready to snow again. They sat at the table and talked as Cassie served dessert—sweet chocolate and raspberry _petit fours_ that were almost too cute to eat. Soon, though, Katie was drifting off to sleep with her little face cuddled into Sebastian’s sweater. When he returned from putting her to bed (“ _Please_ remember to take out her hair clips,” Cassie called after him, “she likes to chew on them and give me a heart attack.”), he made his apologies to his older sister and told her they had to head out.

Cassie sent them off with many hugs, but not before loading Sebastian’s arms with a stack of her bakery’s distinctive blue-and-white-striped boxes. “Now, I need you to promise me these will actually make it to the people they’re intended for,” she teased him as he looked them over, searching for one that had his name on it. “This one is yours. Red velvet cookies. These are for your friends. You _better_ not eat them.”

“I won’t, I won’t, oh my god.”

“And this one,” Cassie smiled hugely as she produced the largest box yet, “is for you, darling.”

Blaine happily accepted the box, along with Cassie’s hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Wow, thank you. This is so nice of you! I feel like I should have brought more than flowers.”

She smiled indulgently. “Just being here was quite enough, sweetheart. You’re welcome to come back any time you feel like it.”

“Careful there, he might take you up on that,” Sebastian teased. “Come on, Blaine, let’s get going before she decides to keep you.”

Cassie smiled. “Bye bye, everyone. Drive safe.”

“I always do.”

Her giggles followed them into the hall. When they stepped outside, the temperature had easily dropped another fifteen degrees, and icy snowflakes danced on the wind. They dashed to the car (Sebastian crashing his foot through an icy puddle again) and huddled in while it warmed up. Minutes into the drive, Sophie was leaning against her door, fast asleep in the back seat.

They drove in companionable silence for a few moments.

“So… That’s Cassie,” Sebastian began hesitantly. “As you can see, she likes you quite a bit.”

Blaine grinned. “I don’t see what you were so nervous about. She’s sweet.”

"That she is," Sebastian responded. His eyes were focused on the road and didn't meet Blaine's. "I wasn't worried about her liking you, honestly. You're the most likable person I've ever met, everyone loves you."

  
"So why were you so nervous?"

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding the question for a moment. "I don't know. I guess it was stupid, but, you should probably know that Cassie stepped up and practically raised the two of us for a while. She's come to our rescue I don't know how many times. It's not like we have some simple relationship. She's really the only family we have, with our mom living in Paris. Unless you count our crazy aunt in Cleveland. We haven't seen her since, I don't know, grade school."

Blaine let what Sebastian had said about Cassie sink in for a moment. He couldn't imagine what it was like to look at his family and see no one but himself and Cooper. No matter how tense things had ever been with his parents, they had always been there. He wondered whether Cooper would have ever stepped up for him the way Cassie had obviously done for her younger siblings. The phrase "practically raised us" was, he realized, Sebastian's way of dodging and glossing over what was likely a bad time.

"Well," he finally began, "I'm really glad I got to meet her."

"You'll be seeing a lot more of her... If you keep hanging out with me, I mean. She may not live right next door but I see her a lot. And if tonight was any indication, she'll try to adopt you by Valentine’s Day."

Blaine smiled and looked at the overflowing box of sweets she had given him. "I don't think I'd mind so much."

The rest of the drive passed by as they chatted on lighter subjects. Sebastian filled him in on  the gossip at Dalton and how his old friends were doing. He told Blaine about Jeff and Sophie's upcoming Juilliard audition, how they practiced their pieces almost every day until Jeff came back exhausted. Blaine, in turn, told a few of the more interesting stories from McKinley, occasionally stopping to remind Sebastian who was who--he knew most of the names, or had at least seen their faces, but had never shown an interest in knowing them.

Then they pulled up to Blaine's driveway. It was late and freezing cold, so Sebastian kept the engine running as they sat for a minute. "Thanks for coming with us tonight. I know I joked about how Cassie was bugging me, but... I'm really glad you wanted to come."

"I'm glad you invited me. Tell her I say thanks again. And I'll send the adoption papers whenever she wants them."

Sebastian chuckled, then leaned in for a hug. "C'mere, you idiot."

Blaine leaned in and wrapped his arms around Sebastian as tight as he could.   He couldn't resist sneaking a kiss on the cheek, and when he leaned back, Sebastian may have been blushing a little--it was hard to tell in the dark.

"Goodnight, Bee."

"Goodnight, Sebastian."

Sophie was mercifully silent for the first few minutes after they pulled out of Blaine's driveway. When he finally pulled himself together, Sebastian straightened up in his seat and met her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"So, did you hear everything, or only most of it?"

She yawned and shrugged. "Only a little." A long silence, then, "So when are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"Don't play coy, big brother. You know what I mean."

Sebastian took a slow, deep breath. "I don't know. Not for a long, long time."

 

~~~~

 

**213**

**Warning: This section deals with the aftermath of Jeff getting kicked out. Also, I feel the need to note that this is not how I would recommend handling this situation. It's written specific to these two characters and their dynamic.**

 

Every year, on the first Saturday of the New Year, Ramona Duval resolved that she would stop worrying so damn much. Which was hilarious, because if there was one thing she was good at, it was worrying.

She began her training in worrying as a solemn kindergartener and expanded upon it in high school, once managing to convince herself that she had a serious illness which, of course, turned out to be nothing more than a headache and a stuffy nose. (Okay, looking back, that one was pretty funny.)

But it was as a young widow raising a preschooler that she really honed her skills. Lose track of four-year-old Nick for more than thirty seconds? He was probably sticking his finger in a light socket again. Misplace the family dog? It was running down the street, trailing its leash like mocking laughter. Couldn’t find her key ring in her enormous purse? Nick was, inevitably, chewing on it. (Nick was a good baby and a well-behaved child, but inadvertently gave her a heart attack once a week. He was curious and completely lacking in common sense.)

So when Jeff Sterling showed up at her house with swollen eyes and no overnight bag, the part of her brain that constantly worried kicked into high gear. Since Thanksgiving, her worries had become a constant drone, keeping her lying awake nights, mentally re-doing her budget over and over again, hoping to come up with a way to keep all three of them fed and the mortgage payment on time.

They could do it. They had to. If she could pare down the grocery list just a little bit, and Nick's car held up and didn't need repairs, and she held off getting the refrigerator fixed, it would work. It still worked, and she could put up with the noise for a while longer. It would be tight, but they could make it another month or so.

  
She was sitting at the table, making an effort to go over her grocery list for the fifth time but mostly staring out the window, when she saw Evie Sterling, Jeff's mom, walking up the front lawn. With a deep breath--a conversation with Evie under these circumstances could go any number of ways--she stood, went over to the stove, and turned the kettle on before going to the door.

  
Her friend of nearly thirteen years looked so incredibly nervous that Ramona almost felt bad. "Hi, Evie," she said in her gentlest tone.

"Hi, Mona. Is Jeff here?"

"No, the boys are out, but they should be back soon. Come in."

They went to the kitchen in silence and Evie took her usual place at the table. How many hundreds of hours had they spent in this kitchen over the years, drinking tea and talking? How many play dates had Evie brought her son over for, knowing Ramona, a young widow, was lonely and desperate for some company, any company, just to break the silence? Never once had it been so awkward. They had shared the responsibility of raising their boys, had negotiated the logistics of carpooling and parent-teacher conferences, had discussed report cards (good and bad) at that table. But now there was an unspoken barrier between them. Evie's rejection of Jeff had been, in a way, a rejection of Nick too, and Ramona was the one to pick up the pieces in the aftermath.

  
"So," Ramona finally began when she had poured tea and she decided Evie's woe-is-me act had gone on long enough, "why are you here, Evie?"

Evie chewed her lip. "I'm here to ask Jeff to come back home."

Well, that was better than some of the alternatives. Still a minefield, but better. She sat down across from her friend. "I'm afraid it's not going to be quite that simple."

Evie looked up from her mug, shocked. "What? Why not? I'm his mother, I want him to come home!"

  
"You also let your husband kick him out in the first place. Don't shake your head at me like that, you know it's true. He may have been the one making the decision but you let it happen. And I love you, Evie, you know I do, but that was a really shitty thing to do. Do you have any idea how badly your hurt him? Your own son?"

Evie shook her head then, suddenly, began to cry. "I miss him so much."

Ramona braced herself. She couldn't give in so quickly-- her first priority had to be Jeff's safety. She couldn't let him go until she knew for sure. "Good. I'm glad you miss him. I hope it hurts you to have him gone, because then maybe you have some idea of what it feels like for Jeff. What that boy needs is a mother who is going to stand by him, not disappear when he needs her most. Loving him from a distance isn't going to win you any points."

Evie wiped her eyes, but tears still flowed freely. "I know that, Mona, dont you think I get it? I've never felt so guilty about anything in my life. I don't know how I'll ever forgive myself for  
letting this happen."

Ramona's heart softened and she reached across the table to take her friend's hand. "Look, Evie, I want him to go back just as much as you do. But I need to know that if he does, he will be okay. He's been through too much already."

Evie nodded, sniffling. "I know."

"If he goes back today-- and I'm not promising I'll let it happen, I'm saying IF--what is your husband's reaction going to be?"

Evie wiped her tears and straightened her shoulders. "I told him he could have all of us home or none of us."

"That's a good start, but are you prepared to follow through on it? Are you going to protect Jeff if something happens again?"

"I won't need to. My husband--I think he's as ashamed of what he did as I am. He promised me he would be better."

Ramona sucked her teeth, something she remembered her mother doing. "I wish I could believe that, Evie, but I trust you. I know you believe him."

"Look, Ramona, just because you never liked him doesn't mean"--

"Evie, the second time I met him he asked if I was worried that raising Nick alone would 'turn him into a pansy.' So no, I don't particularly like him."

"He's trying," she insisted.

"He's got a hell of a long way to go, then. That's why I need to know you're serious. If Jeff wants to go back, I can't stop him. But I will try my damndest if I think he's in any danger. Are you, or are you not, going to stand up for him? Promise me you will."

"I promise. God, Mona, I want him to come home more than anything in the world. I'll do anything."

"Good. It's not going to be easy for either of you, you know that, right?"

"I know."

Ramona stood and went over to the kitchen island, digging through the basket of papers she kept there. She tossed a handful of pamphlets and printouts in front of her friend. "These are from PFLAG. They give a hell of a lot of good advice, and I want you to read them. And if you think you can be the kind of mom Jeff deserves, then you can talk to him when he and Nick get back."

  
Evie sighed heavily and picked up the top sheet. Then, and only then, Ramona fetched her cell phone from the counter and texted Nick.

"Come home."

A minute later, her phone buzzed its response.

"Emergency?"

"Two steps down from emergency. Jeff's mom is here, please let him know. Drive carefully."

"Five minutes."

Satisfied, she put her phone down and set to making another round of tea, taking out extra mugs for the boys. She switched out hers and Evie's, which had gotten cold, for fresh ones. The kettle had just begun to boil when she heard the door from the garage open.

"Hi mom," Nick called into the house.

"Hi, honey. We're in the kitchen."

Evie set down her papers and set her palms flat on the table, taking deep, calming breaths. Ramona was tempted to do the same, even though she knew it didn't work on her. Nervousness was less a feeling for her than a state of existence.

When the boys walked into the kitchen, Jeff was pale as a ghost. Nick had a reassuring hand on his back and, while he looked more composed than his boyfriend, Ramona knew her son and could tell from his tight, pursed mouth that he was just as nervous as the rest of them.

They all stared at each other for a moment before Jeff managed a "Hi, mom."

Evie's breath came out in a rush. "Oh, god, Jeff, I'm so happy to see you."

Jeff chewed his lip. He didn't look happy, he looked like he was about to cry. Ramona felt it was best if she spoke up before that happened, lay all the cards out on the table. "Jeff, I'm sure you can guess what she wants to talk to you about. And I want you to know that whatever decision you make is completely up to you. You don't even have to make a decision right now if you don't want to. But whatever you do, we're all on your side."

He gave her a weak but grateful smile and, with a gentle guide from Nick, sat down at the table across from his mother. Nick took the third chair at the table while Ramona stayed where she was standing by the kitchen island.

Evie reached across the table and took her son's hands. "Jeff, honey, I'm so sorry for everything. None of this should ever have happened. I want you to come home more than anything in the world. And so does your father."

Jeff continued chewing his lip and shook his head sadly, but didn't say anything.

"It's true, Jeff. I made it clear to him that he can either have all of us or none of us, and I'm going to stand by that. I'm going to stand by _you_. No one in the world is more important to me than my kids. I know I messed that up terribly, but if you can ever find a way to forgive me for it, I promise you I will do better." Evie's eyes were tearing up again. "Just please, please come home."

Jeff pulled his hands back slowly and Ramona realized he was crying. He sniffed, wiping his eyes roughly with a fist, and Nick laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know, mom. I'm sorry, but I just don't know if I can."

"Jeff, sweetheart, I don't blame you if you're scared or worried. I really don't. But I promise you that things will be better."

Jeff was crying in earnest by then, hands over his face. Nick wrapped his arms around his shoulders protectively, not needing to say anything, just being a steady and reassuring presence by his side. Ramona felt her heart swell up with pride for her beloved son. He had so much love in him.

"Can you give us just a minute?" he asked Evie, gently getting Jeff to his feet. "We're just gonna go sit in the living room for a minute. Okay, Jeff? We'll be right back."

They walked into the other room and Ramona watched them sit on the couch. Jeff bent almost double to control his crying and Nick leaned right in with him, rubbing his back and murmuring things she couldn't hear.

It was a long and tense few minutes before Nick returned alone, his jaw set. "Okay. So. Jeff asked me to tell you this. He's really upset right now. But." He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "He's agreed to go home." Evie started up, but he held up a hand to stop her. " _Next_ weekend. We'll both drive back up to Dalton tomorrow and I'll bring him home on Friday. If everything goes okay, then we'll go from there. He wants to come home. Really. He just needs more time."

Evie was nearly crying with relief. "That's fine. That's more than fine. Thank you, Nick."

He nodded and excused himself from the room. Evie wiped her eyes and stood. "I should go. But, Mona.... I don't know how can ever thank you enough for everything you've done for Jeff. I can't imagine this has been easy for you."

Ramona bit back a sarcastic reply. No use undoing all the good work her son had so deftly completed. "I love that boy, Evie. I couldn't have done anything else."

"I know."

The two old friends hugged, and Ramona felt the first glimmers of a chance that the wall between would slowly dismantle. Brick by brick, apology by apology, yes, but it might come down someday. "Don't forget what I told you."

"I won't."

It was only after Evie left, the boys were upstairs, and the kitchen clean, that Ramona allowed herself to sit down at the table and cry.

Even then, she only gave it a minute. There were other things to be done.

 

~~~~

 

**214**

For the first time probably ever, Trent wasn't looking forward to heading back to Dalton.

No matter how many times he reminded himself that it was no big deal, that getting all tied up in knots over a boy was stupid, that they would both be totally normal about it and no fusses would be made, he felt a little queasy about going back and facing Dave. For a while, he had really thought there was something there--that it was more than just a fleeting mutual crush. It was pretty clear, though, that Dave didn't agree.

He drove up Sunday afternoon, irritated for no reason at his always-rattling-basically-falling-apart car, unable to listen to a radio station for more than a minute. Grateful for the single room (no roommates to bug him), he waited until after he had unpacked his suitcase and taken a few deep breaths to open his door.

  
Nick and Jeff were the first to stop by, of course, since they lived just across the hall. Then a couple guys from his English class happened to drop by and they stopped for a few minutes, chatting about sports (they no longer got surprised when he, a gay man, could talk football with the manliest of them). Then Sebastian, slouching on the doorframe like he always did, all casual self-assurance.

  
Maybe if Sebastian wasn't seeing anyone--or, more likely, sleeping with everyone who expressed an interest-- he would be interested in adding 'benefits' to their friendship. ( _That was a stupid, stupid thing to think, Trent, come ON. Even if he is dead sexy._ )

Then, finally, he was alone again. While he usually surrounded himself with his friends--half his reason for joining the Warblers had been to have a group to depend on--he wanted nothing more that night to be left alone so he could prepare himself for the week ahead. He needed to get his head straight ( _Ha, good one_ he thought to himself), if only so that he didn't randomly burst into tears during a class. It had happened before, and while his friends would never bring it up, he didn't do well with embarrassment.

Well, he was alone until his phone started buzzing insistently on his desk, the screen lighting up with a selfie he and Sophie had taken earlier that year. He picked it up reluctantly.

"Hey, girl.”

"Hi sweetie. You back at Dalton yet?"

He dropped down onto his bed so he stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, I got here a couple hours ago. How are you?"

"Fine, but I wanted to ask you something. What's this I hear about you and Dave splitting up?"

Well, shit. She was bound to hear sooner or later, the little gossip monster, but he had hoped she would have the tact not to bring it up so bluntly. Seems he was wrong in that regard. He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. "I don't really want to talk about it, Soph, it kinda"--

She cut him off. "What do you mean, you don't want to talk about it? You both seemed so happy, I don't see why"--

"SOPHIE." His patience with her, which had always seemed limitless, suddenly quit. "What part of 'I don't want to talk about it' isn't perfectly clear to you? For god's sake, stop meddling and leave it alone."

She went silent on the other end, and he didn't give her a chance to apologize before he hung up on her. It probably hurt her feelings, but he'd deal with that later. 

Well, maybe he would if she ever stopped spamming his phone with text messages. Goddamn the Smythe siblings and their need to have the last word. He let the messages run their course, only checking them when his phone went dark and stayed that way for a full minute.

 **Sophie:** Fuck, I'm sorry.

 **Sophie:** didn't mean to push like that.

 **Sophie:** Okay, I did, and it was the wrong thing to do. I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.

 **Sophie:** I just want you to be happy. Even if I'm going about it completely the wrong way.

 **Sophie:** I'm sorry.

The apology didn't stop the hurt, but it cooled his temper enough that he picked up his phone and dialed her number. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he began without a greeting.

She laughed. "People keep saying that." Her voice dropped again, softening with apology. "I'm really sorry, Trent. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I know I did, but I really didn't mean to."

"I know, baby girl. I know. But you really, REALLY need to stop this. Just leave it alone. You can't fix this, and honestly I really don't want you to."

Her voice on the other end was soft and apologetic. "I just want you to be happy."

He repressed the urge to groan. He knew she wasn't saying that to play a guilt card against him, but it certainly felt like it. And how did HE end up apologizing to HER anyway? "Look, sweetie, I know you want to help me. I get that. But I didn't ask you to, and this is a situation where you can't fix it. It's just not up to you."

She sighed. "I know," she admitted, grudging and apologetic. 

"Look, if I want help, you're the first person I'll go to. Promise. But right now, just let me deal with it, okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"I know." He rubbed his forehead, where he could feel a headache starting. Something about arguing with the Smythe twins never failed to set him off. "But look, right now I have to go. I need to finish unpacking." Which was a lie, but would hopefully get him off the phone while still sparing her feelings. "I'll text you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, boo."

"Love you too, baby girl."

He turned off his phone, put on his pajamas, and slept like the dead. His emotions would have to wait for him to get around to them. Tomorrow. Tomorrow sounded like a good time.

 

~~~~

 

**215**

 

 **Sebastian** : It’s a good thing I have my library card, because I am TOTALLY checking you out.

 **Blaine** : What are you doing?

 **Sebastian** : Are your legs tired from running through my dreams all night?

 **Sebastian** : You’re so hot you made me forget my pickup line.

 **Blaine** : Oh my god stop

 **Sebastian** : Excuse me, if I go straight this way, will I be able to reach your heart?

 **Sebastian** : Are those space pants? Because your ass is out of this world!

 **Sebastian** : Did you have lucky charms for breakfast? Because you look magically delicious!

 **Blaine** : I just got detention for laughing out loud in class. I hate you.

~~~~

**216**

**Sebastian:** Not to belabor the point or risk sounding enthusiastic (because I'm totally not) but is that second date ever happening?

 **Sebastian:** Just wondering.

 **Sebastian:** Not that I actually care.

 **Sebastian:** That would be silly.

 **Blaine:** Okay you really need to work on this 'waiting for me to respond' thing because oh. My. God.

 **Blaine:** Also, if you're going to claim you're not interested don't text me a million times in a row. Not very convincing.

 **Sebastian:** Who said anything about convincing? I am completely and totally disinterested

 **Blaine:** Of course you are, how could I forget? You mention it every time you remind me.

 **Sebastian:** Well I'm just making sure you know.

 **Sebastian:** Wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea.

 **Blaine:** Believe me, I got it.

 **Sebastian:** Awesome.

 **Sebastian:** So?

 **Blaine:** I think I can pull it together by Saturday. Keep your afternoon free.

 **Sebastian:** I'll try. No promises.

 **Blaine:** Of course.

 **Sebastian:** Gotta run. Announcing Regionals solos and song list today.

 **Blaine:** Make sure to include me on that text, ok? I keep missing them.

 **Sebastian:** Your spy skills need some work.

 **Blaine:** It was worth a shot. Talk later

 **Sebastian:** Okay. Bye

  
 **Sebastian:** ...You know I'm just kidding when I say I don't care, right? 

 **Blaine:** Yes I know.

 **Blaine:** I won't tell anyone.

 **Sebastian:** Good.  
  
~~~~

  
 **216**  
  
"You're kidding, right?"

If Sebastian had a dollar for every time people used that question to start a conversation with him, he would be even richer than he already was. By, like, factors of ten.

He closed the door to his room and tossed his uniform jacket over his chair, not answering Dave for a minute. His roommate sat crosswise on his bed, legs dangling, and he was holding up his phone as if it was supposed to mean something.

"You're going to have to be more specific, big guy. People say that to me a lot."

"I can't imagine why," Dave responded in the verbal equivalent of an eye roll. "I mean, you can't actually be serious about giving me a _whole freaking song_ at Regionals. This is the point where you tell me it's a joke."

Sebastian hung his tie over the end of his bed and kicked his shoes under it. He'd been practicing choreography all afternoon and he couldn't feel his toes. "No joke. Congratulations. This is the part where you thank me."

Dave crossed his arms over his chest and, teddy bear personality or not, those biceps were intimidating. "Sebastian, seriously. Quit messing around and tell me what's going on. For real."

"No joke. You want me to swear on a stack of Bibles, big guy, bring then on, because I'm serious. You kicked your audition's _ass_ , you're going to sing 'Born to Run' at Regionals, and we are going to absolutely _slay_ the competition. I'm already reserving hotel rooms in Chicago for Nationals."

"Liar."

"Okay, I'm holding off until next week, but that doesn't make me any less confident in how completely fucking awesome you're going to be. You earned this. For god's sake, enjoy it. I give you permission to gloat about how good you are for," he jokingly looked at his watch, "ten minutes. I'm going to lie down because I've been working on Jeff's choreography and everything hurts. Flexible bastard." Dave chuckled as Sebastian flopped down on his bed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. 

"So am I gonna have to dance, too? Like, at the same time I'm singing?"

Sebastian moved his arm so one eye could glare at his roommate. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't. You can count on me, boss."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

Dave's infectious belly laugh almost managed to make him forget how much his feet hurt.

~~~~

**217**

They had dawdled and wasted as much time at Dalton as they could, and it was nearly dark by the time Nick and Jeff got in the car. At least it wasn't snowing and the roads were clear, even if it was bitterly cold--so deep-in-the-bones chilly that it took four attempts to get the car started.

 

They huddled in the front seats as the ancient heater worked its way to life, melting the cobweb patterns of ice on the windshield. Jeff had forgotten his gloves (again) and Nick took his chilled hands in his, rubbing them together to warm them. He didn't bother to ask Jeff for the tenth or twentieth time if he was sure he was going to be okay at home for the weekend. He'd asked already as Jeff packed his duffel bag, then as they walked out to the car, then once more, a little jokingly to hide his nerves, as they struggled with the frozen-shut doors. The answer each time had been a not very reassuring "yeah, of course," which did nothing to put his mind at ease, but did warn him to just stop asking already.

"So," he began after a minute, trying to find safe ground for a conversation, "how are you doing with your Juilliard audition piece? I can't believe you haven't let me see it."

Jeff shrugged. "It's not finished yet. I mean, it's definitely getting better. I just don't feel, like, it's _ready_ , you know?"

Nick squeezed his hands. "I get that. But maybe if you showed me or some of the other guys we could help you out."

Jeff frowned. "I dunno. I feel weird about this piece. It's not like choreographing something for the guys where I can take their advice and have them do cool stuff that I wouldn't normally do. This one has to be _all_

me. And besides, you know Trent and Beatz will tell me I'm amazing even if it sucks, and you're not exactly the most unbiased opinion."

Nick laughed. "Hey now, that's not exactly fair."

"It's true, though, and you know it. And I appreciate it, really," he added, placating.  "It's just that I need to get it all finalized before I show it off. The other people at the studio have been helping me a lot with the technique. That's the hardest part, getting that part solid, I mean, I have style for _days_ , that part's easy."

They both laughed. Nick reached over and playfully mussed Jeff's hair. (He always pretended to hate that, and Nick was the only one who got away with it.) "Well I'm glad they're being helpful. Last time I went there, I think they intentionally used obscure ballet terms in my direction until I left."

Jeff smiled sheepishly. "Yeah... They do that sometimes." Then, after a beat of silence, he sat up and wrapped his arms around Nick, squeezing him close into his warmth. "Thanks. Just, you know, for being so awesome."

Nick smiled and kissed his cheek. "Anything for you, babe."  
  
  
~~~~

**218**

  
Sebastian was neither fully dressed nor ready. His hair has a hot post-shower mess, he couldn't find his contact lens case, and he knew he had thrown his sneakers in the closet at some point in the last twenty-four hours, but it was starting to look like the monster under the bed had eaten them.

 

So when his phone switched from bleeping text messages to blasting his ringtone (so it was set to "Non, Je ne Regrette Rien," he just fucking liked that song, okay?) he nearly fell over trying to pick it up. The screen showed a picture of Blaine--a kissy-face selfie taken in a dressing room before Sectionals, sporting a bow tie and a checkered shirt. It was one of the most adorable pictures Sebastian had ever seen and made him grin like a complete idiot every time he saw it.

As luck would have it, he stubbed every single toe on his desk just in time to pick up the call. "Ow, fuck. Hello?"

A beat of surprised silence on the other end. "Um, hi, Sebastian? You okay?"

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Smooth, Smythe, real smooth. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry, just tripping over my dumb self. Are you here? Please tell me you're not here."  
Another long beat of silence. "I can, I don't know, go back home or"--

"No no no no no," Sebastian interrupted. This conversation was getting better and better. "I just seem to have misplaced my shoes. All of them, simultaneously. I suspect a conspiracy. Or Dave messing with me again."

Dave looked up from his textbook and made a face. Sebastian stuck his tongue out in reply. Dave pointed to the pair of green Converse Sebastian could have sworn were in the closet (they were under the desk).

"Score. I have located my shoes. I can be down in two minutes."

"Okay. Or do you mind if I come up? It's freezing out here. The lady at the front desk will totally let me in."

"That works. See you in a sec."

He hung up and tossed the phone on his bed, running both hands through his hair as he assessed the complete disaster he had made of himself in only an hour since he got back from his run. He _knew_ he had put a shirt out, and the green Converse weren't exactly his first choice but--

Dave's laugh pulled him out of his minor panic spiral. "Dude, you are gonna _die_ when you see how bad your hair looks right now. I feel honor-bound to say something about it."

"Not helping, big guy, not helping _at all_."

Dave shrugged and returned to his book. "Alright. I warned you."

He lasted ten seconds before, muttering curses, he went over to the mirror. Sure enough, it stuck up in every conceivable direction. He looked like a damn cartoon character. The jeans and shirt we was wearing would have to work, because damn, there was no way he was going out with that mess.

He had just managed to get his hair under some sort of control when there was a knock on his door. He dashed for it, but Dave got there first. Sebastian caught the end of whatever Blaine was saying (It sounded like "Tell Jeff I say hey"), but then he was standing behind Dave like his roommate was an overprotective father or something.

"Um, hey Dave." It only took Blaine a second to pull together his usual enthusiasm, which was impressive, since he had a ridiculously big former football player blocking his way.

"Hi, Blaine. I'm not trying to scare you or anything. I'm totally just delaying you so Sebastian has another minute. Dude is a _mess_."

(Sebastian didn't even wait hear Blaine's reply, just took advantage of his reprieve and dashed to his closet in search of his sweater.)

Blaine laughed. "I think I can handle it."

"Yeah, you say that because you haven't seen him in full 'I have a date' panic mode. Come to think of it, I haven't either before now. It's hilarious."

"Oh, now you _have_ to let me through. I won't believe this until I see it."

Dave looked over his shoulder just as Sebastian pulled his second shoe on, miraculously avoiding falling down in the process. "Nah, looks like I delayed you _juuuuust_ long enough. Next time."

Sebastian ducked under Dave's arm, looping his scarf around his neck. "Thanks, big guy, I owe you one," he called over his shoulder as he slipped one arm through Blaine's and began propelling him, backwards, down the hall. Blaine played along gamely, managing to keep up with Sebastian's longer strides despite going backward. 

"This is _amazing_ ," he teased, a huge smile on his face. "I can't even believe this is happening."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Sebastian slowed his pace a little, half embarrassed and half laughing at himself. "I am completely calm. Couldn't possibly care any less."

Blaine was still keeping up, though he was threatening to get his feet tangled at any moment. "This is even better than last time. You haven't even asked where we're going. Um, can you let go of my arm so I can turn around? I feel like I'm going to--oof!" As if on cue, he tripped over his own feet, stumbling a half step into Sebastian, who caught him in his arms.

They smiled sheepishly at each other as Sebastian put Blaine back onto his feet. "Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away."

"You think?" Blaine straightened the lapels of his coat. “Okay, you get exactly ten seconds to calm down before this starts getting weird. Ready?”

Still, Sebastian tried to retain his dignity. “I don’t know what you’re”—

“Ten.” Blaine was clearly having none of it. “Nine.”

Sebastian sighed, looking down at his feet and running a hand through his hair as he tried to come down from the _incredible_ embarrassment. “Okay. I get your point. Sorry. I just got… Nervous.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It was really funny up until the point where you were dragging me.”

They both grinned at each other, and Sebastian realized with a combination of opposing feelings that he was in _deep_ for Blaine Anderson, and it wasn’t going to go away. It was simultaneously a very, very bad and completely awesome thing.

“So… Where _are_ we going, anyway?”

~~~~

**218**

Where they were going turned out to be a town Sebastian had never been to before.  Blaine parked on a street lined with small, glass-fronted shops and even smaller restaurants. (Sebastian didn’t open the car door for him. He was still internally berating himself for being such an idiot earlier.) Almost everything but the restaurants were closed, which just made him even more confused.

Until Blaine slipped a hand into his, curling their warm fingers together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And, well. Wow.

Blaine smiled up at him as he pulled open the front door of what appeared to be a shop, its windows spilling warm light out onto the street. From right inside the front door it appeared to be a framing store, but a poster almost as tall as Sebastian invited them into the gallery at the back. “Between Here and Nowhere,” it was titled, “Ramon Garcia’s photography for _Desert Architecture_ magazine.”

Sebastian’s mouth nearly dropped open. “You brought me to a gallery?”

Blaine smiled so big it made his eyes crinkle. “Mm hm.”

“A gallery of architecture photography.”

“Yep.”

“Wow. Um, I really need to up my date planning game.”

Blaine shrugged. “Probably, yeah. Wanna go in?”

Sebastian didn’t bother to respond, just tightened his grip on Blaine’s hand and walked toward the gallery, ignoring his date’s smirk and half-repressed chuckle.

The exhibition was small and intimate almost to the point of being bare-bones, with even, neat rows of pictures in simple frames on white walls. The photos, though, were astonishing—wide expanses of rustic desert juxtaposed with brilliant neon signs, decaying trailers, and turquoise swimming pools. Natural shapes bumped up against harsh steel angles. It was exactly the style Sebastian loved and tried to emulate—with varying degrees of success—in his own work.

He and Blaine dawdled through the show, standing in front of their favorite pictures for several minutes at a time. They talked a little, in low voices, pointing out the things they liked. Blaine asked a lot of questions about photography techniques, and Sebastian answered the ones he could, not even minding when he had to admit he didn’t know the answer. He was surprised when Blaine expressed admiration at a picture of a rusted old bridge over a former, now dried-out reservoir—it seemed a little grim for his taste—but then he laughed aloud at a picture of a neon sign that read “Elvis Lives” in huge, blue letters. (Sebastian made a mental note to see if he could buy a print of it.)

Throughout the two hours they walked through the show, they only let go of each other’s hands once.

In the back of Sebastian’s mind, he was keeping an eye out for dirty looks or whispered comments from other people in the gallery—it was automatic. After an hour without a single incident, though, he stopped thinking about it. Score one for social progress. Not that anyone’s disapproval would have stopped them, of course. Hell, if someone said something, he’d probably slip a hand in Blaine’s back pocket just to be a smartass.

He realized he’d let his train of thought drift a little too far in that direction when Blaine started to move on, causing him to tug at their joined hands.

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking concerned at Sebastian’s spaced-out expression.

Sebastian just grinned and slipped his arm over Blaine’s shoulders. “Yeah. Everything’s great.”

 

~~~~

 

**219**

Dave had managed to get himself lost again.

It was January, seriously, he needed to figure out where the hell everything in this building was. This was the second time he was walking past the rehearsal room—

He stopped outside the door, leaning in closely. Yes, he _had_ heard the piano playing. He stood and listened for a moment. He recognized the music from the Beatles song “Hey Jude.”

The door was open just the slightest crack. Too shy to go in, he pressed his face to the opening, trying to figure out who was playing. Quite a lot of the Warblers played piano (and, he was sure, a lot of non-Warblers), so he couldn’t even begin to guess who it was.

He could only see the boy’s back, but he knew from the broad shoulders that it was Trent. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up, a leather bracelet knotted around one wrist. There was no sheet music in front of him, so he must have been playing from memory.

His voice carried faintly across the room. Dave had never heard Trent sing on his own, just as part of the backup. Though he was singing softly, his voice was smooth, just a little higher than Dave would have guessed.

“So let it out and let it in…Hey Jude, begin… You’re looking for someone to perform with…”

He must have leaned forward a little, because he pressed against the door and it creaked, opening half an inch. Trent, shocked, sat bolt upright and turned around.

“Hello?”

 _Oh shit oh shit oh shit_.

Resigning himself to the embarrassment, he opened the door and gave Trent a sheepish grin. “Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to spy.”

“Oh, hey. It’s alright. You can come in, if you want.”

Dave stepped in and closed the door behind him, but stayed on that side of the room. He felt even more awkward than usual. They hadn’t been alone in a room together since before Christmas. Since he’d freaked out and run away like the coward he was. They hung out only as part of a group, and even then they barely interacted. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. So he stood there like the big dumbass he was.

“I um,” he began, searching for something to say. “I’ve never heard you sing. You know, a solo.” He looked down at his feet. He was blushing. _Oh god someone save me_. “You’re really good.”

There was a long pause and Trent sighed. “Dave. Look at me.”

He looked up and met Trent’s eyes. There was a soft expression there, but it was sad, too.

“You can come over here. I’m not mad at you. I won’t bite.”

Dave managed a half a sheepish grin this time, but walked over and took a seat on the couch that faced the piano. He still wanted to keep his distance. He felt like he couldn’t get too close.

“You play piano?” Trent asked casually, turning back to the keys. His fingers moved just a hair’s breadth above them, playing a silent song.

“I uh… No. I was never into music until this year.”

“Not at all?”

“Not really. I sang a couple songs with the New Directions once. That was, maybe, two years ago, though. And after that…. I wasn’t exactly welcome.”

Trent didn’t comment, just kept playing silently, seeming to think over the implications of what Dave wasn’t saying. Then he gave a bob of his head, beckoning Dave closer. “C’mere.”

“What?”  
“I said c’mere. I’m gonna teach you how to play ‘Hey Jude.’”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin, I—“

“Dave. Stop thinking and come over here.” He slid to the far side of the bench and patted the empty space.

It was probably a bad idea, but Dave hauled himself up from the couch and sat on the piano bench, trying and failing to keep space between them. Unfortunately the furniture had not been built to accommodate someone of his size, so they were squished, legs pressed together.

“Okay, so you’ve never played piano before?”

“No.”

“Okay. We’ll start with your right hand then.” He reached across Dave’s body to grab his hand and place it on the keys. “So your thumb goes here, and each of your fingers takes one key… There we go. Okay, this is a really simple song, so you’re just going to press these three keys—all together—at once.” Dave felt clumsy, but did what Trent told him. His first try wasn’t very smooth and one of the keys came down too early, but he tried again and got it right. “Okay, you’re going to do that four times…Now these three keys…”

They sat and Dave played one-handed for a little while, stumbling a little over a quicker half-note, but Trent was unfailingly patient. They ran through the notes a couple times, then Trent joined in, playing the part Dave would be playing with his left hand. “Just play it steady like I showed you.” They hit the rhythm of the song perfectly, and Dave was disappointed when they came to the end of what he knew.

When they stopped, Trent looked over at him and smiled. “You just played the first line of the song. See, I told you it was easy.”

His _smile_. It wasn’t fair. Dave let his hands drop to his lap and stared at them as if doing so could make his heart stop racing.

“Trent…”

The other boy was silently playing again. “Yeah?”

“I’m _really_ sorry.”

“I know you are,” he replied, nonchalant.

“No. I mean.” He took a deep breath and looked up. Their eyes met. There it was again—the soft, sad look. Like Trent was silently praying for Dave not to hurt him again. Like he was hoping to hear something, but afraid of it, too. “I was a total coward. I didn’t know what to say. So I just ran.”

“Dave, it was a month ago. I’m a big boy, I handled it.”

“But that’s…that’s the thing. If I hadn’t been such an idiot, if I had just sucked it up and stopped thinking only of myself… I would have told you that I really like you, and I have pretty much since we met. And I know that I totally blew it, and that there’s no hope that it’ll change anything now. But I miss you. I miss hanging out with you, even if we were only doing our homework or watching tv or stupid stuff like that. And since that day… I feel like I lost my only chance because I freaked out at the worst possible time. And I have to tell you that I’m sorry. Because even if you don’t like me anymore, the rest of this year is going to completely suck without you.” He let out a long breath and looked back down at his hands. He had nothing else to say.

There was a long, silent pause. So long that Dave braced himself to get up and leave and was surprised when Trent spoke.

“I… Wow, Dave. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.”

Dave managed a dry chuckle. “Yeah, probably.”

“I don’t… I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll go. Forget I said anything.”

“Dave, no.” The other boy planted a hand firmly on Dave’s knee. Never before had he been so firmly rooted to a spot. “Don’t go. I didn’t mean… Goddammit, Dave, don’t you think I miss you too? I miss doing our homework together after dinner. I miss the way you always draw on my notes when you’re trying to annoy me. I can’t even _begin_ to tell you how many times over the last month something happened and you were the first person I wanted to tell. Or how many times I was hanging out with Nick and Jeff and it felt wrong because you weren’t there. And _I_ feel stupid because I feel like I pushed you and you weren’t ready, and _I’m_ the one who blew it.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who freaked out. I should have told you how much I liked you.”

“Do you still?”

Dave was caught off-guard. Their eyes met again. _God, his eyes._ The look of _hope_ he saw there.

“Do you still like me?”

Dave swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

On side of Trent’s lips turned up in a grin. “Well, I still like _you_.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Guess I’m just as much of a dumbass as you.”

Dave laughed purely from the surprise. “Wow. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah.” Trent leaned in and gently nudged him with his shoulder. “From now on, don’t freak out on me, okay? Just say something.”

“I’ll try. This is really new to me.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, I’m the slutty heartbreaker between the two of us.”

Dave smiled. He’d missed Trent’s sassy attitude. He couldn’t help but reach up and cup the other boy’s chin, causing him to blush faintly. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I’ve wasted so much time being an idiot.”

Trent squeezed Dave’s knee in return. “We’ll make up for the lost time somehow.” He blushed deeper, biting his lip from nervousness. “Can I… Can I kiss you now?”

Dave smiled. “Of course.”

It was soft, at first, and hesitant, full of shyness and apology, then it deepened, their mouths working together with a sudden, breathless intensity. It was different than the other kisses they’d shared—less sloppy than the tipsy making out the night of the birthday party, more passionate than the hesitant, exploratory pecks they’d shared in the days that followed as they circled around their feelings.

Trent had never been particularly good with words, but he could speak through kisses in a way Dave had thought only happened in books. And the way he kissed ( _oh god the way he kissed_ ) said so much. The way he moved his lips said _I still like you_. The way his tongue pressed past Dave’s lips, soft but insistent, said _I’ve been waiting for you to come back._ The way he gently nibbled at Dave’s lower lip, making him moan into the kiss, said _I want you, even if I’m too shy to say it_.

Dave tried as best he could to reciprocate, to make his kisses say _I’m so sorry_ and _I’m not scared anymore_ and _god, I want you too_. Trent leaned in closer, resting his hand on Dave’s knee for balance at first, then slowly slid upwards to his inner thigh and sent sparks up Dave’s spine.

Dave forced himself to break the kiss, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “We shouldn’t do this here,” he mumbled, so close their lips brushed with every word.

Trent was breathing hard; Dave could feel it against his mouth as he spoke. “Where then?”  
The pressure of the other boy’s hand on his inner thigh was so distracting. He could only think of what it would be like to shove him onto one of the couches, press him into the cushions. “Somewhere private.”

Trent grinned. “Thank god for single rooms.”


	23. Chapter 23

**220**

Sebastian felt more like a stupid highschooler than he was normally okay with. Seriously, he had to be breaking highschooler-stereotype records.

Of course, the fact that he and Blaine had been making out in the car for over an hour made it all okay. More than okay. It was amazing. It was one of the greatest nights in recorded history. He ought to write a song about it.

“I have to go home,” Blaine insisted between kisses, despite the grip his hands kept on Sebastian’s coat.

“No you don’t.” Sebastian finally had the leverage he’d been trying to get for the last twenty minutes, and with a quick motion, pulled Blaine right out of his seat, earning him a gasp of surprise as Blaine’ knees slid around his own.

“Okay, fine, five more minutes,” Blaine gave in as his hands slid into Sebastian’s hair.

“That’s more like it.”

 

~~~~

 

**221**

**Blaine** : Are you from Tennessee? Cause you're the only ten I see!!!

**Sebastian:** Oh god this is payback for last time isn’t it

**Blaine** : Hi, I’m Mr. Right--I heard you were looking for me.

**Blaine** : I'm going outside to make out... care to join me?

**Blaine** : If you were a laser you would be set on stunning.

**Sebastian** : I just pictured you saying that while doing finger guns. Are you trying to get me kicked out of class?

**Blaine** : If I had a garden I'd put your two lips and my two lips together.

**Blaine** : I'm going to need a tall glass of cold water, cuz baby your making me HOT!

**Sebastian** : I gave up and laid my head down on my desk because I was trying too hard not to laugh. Everyone is staring.

**Blaine** : Revenge is mine!

 

~~~~

 

**222**

Rehearsals for Regionals were going to be the death of Blaine Anderson, he was sure of it. Four hours a night, four nights a week. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. His feet hurt. His head hurt. Muscles he didn’t know he _had_ hurt.

He hardly had time for homework anymore, mostly passing out in bed as soon as he got home. Half his assignments got done in homeroom or at a lunch table full of New Directioners doing the same exact thing.

Which meant, of course, that there was _no time at all_ for anything resembling a social life. Half the text messages Sebastian sent him (and there were a lot fewer of them—he must be wrapped up in rehearsals too) went ignored, as did messages from the rest of the Warblers. He hadn’t even had a conversation with Tina about anything other than choreography for a week.

So when she stomped up to him one day after class, grabbed his arm and physically _dragged_ him out to her car, he didn’t fight her, just asked where they were going.

“Lima Bean. Peppermint mochas.” She tended to talk in fragments when she was stressed out. “If I don’t get out of that building I’m going to do something stupid like stuff a freshman in a locker.”

Blaine took a second to work through the mental image, which was hilarious. “Something happen? Other than the obvious, of course.”

She sighed, her shoulders momentarily dropping from their position around her ears. “No. Sorry. I’m just so _tired_.”

“Don’t be sorry, I understand. So, what’s been going on with you?”

“Oh no, don’t give me that,” she interrupted, pointing a finger in his face. (Her eyes stayed on the road, so she nearly jabbed him in the nose.) “I asked you first.”

“No you didn’t,” he argued with a smile as he moved her arm away.

“I did now. Don’t try to deny it, Blaine, you’ve been keeping a secret from me for at least a couple of months. And because I love you and you’re my soulmate, I haven’t called you on it until now. But I’m tired and pissed off and in _desperate_ need of a coffee, so I am going to call you on it and lock you in this car until you answer, if necessary.”

He waited for a second to see if he could figure out if she was really angry (in which case he would immediately go into “Defuse Tina” mode) or just joking, and her smile confirmed it was the latter as they pulled into the Lima Bean parking lot.

“Okay, fine, you win. But… let’s get some coffee in you first. You might also want to be sitting down.”

Ten minutes later he was waving a hand in front of her stunned face, softly calling her name in hopes of getting some— _any_ —response.

“Tina? Tina, seriously, this is starting to freak me out. Are you okay?”

“You are dating Sebastian Smythe. You. Are _dating_. _Sebastian Smythe._ ”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

She shook her head suddenly, as if coming out of a dream. “I’m sorry, I thought you said something _insane_.”

“It’s not insane, Tina, will you please just give me a chance to explain?”

She took a deep breath, pursed her lips, then reached across the table to clasp his hands. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Blaine, you’re right. I didn’t mean to judge, I was just surprised.”

He chuckled dryly. “I don’t blame you. Still kind of surprises me too.”

She squeezed his hands and gave him a smile. “How about you explain it to me? You know I just want you to be happy. Right?”

He smiled back. “I know. And I am.”

“Does this mean we’ll have to call off our engagement?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m afraid it might.”

She faked a sniffle. “And here I’d already picked out wedding venues. You’re breaking my heart, Blaine.”

 

~~~~

 

**223**

**Blaine** : I would like to begin my three part pre-emptive apology by saying that Tina backed me into a corner and threatened to stuff me in a locker.

**Blaine** : That is, of course, metaphorical. But the point is that I confessed only under fear of my life and safety, and if she calls you or threatens you in any way, I am really, really sorry.

**Sebastian:** Okay you’re going to have to back up and fill me in

**Sebastian:** Because while what I’m picturing is hilarious, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

**Blaine** : I sorta told Tina that you and I are dating

**Blaine** : So.

**Sebastian:** So? 

**Sebastian:** I mean we are.

**Sebastian:** Aren’t we? This isn’t exactly my strong suit

**Sebastian:** But I kinda figured dates plural = dating.

**Blaine** : Wait

**Blaine** : Back up

**Sebastian:** Nope never mind ignore all of that

**Blaine** : I feel like we just started a completely different conversation

**Sebastian:** Nope nope nope nothing to talk about

**Blaine** : Sebastian

**Sebastian:** Oh dear I seem to have broken my phone

**Blaine** : Don’t give me that

**Blaine** : We are dating. It’s okay, you can say it

**Blaine** : I can hear you panicking all the way over here

**Blaine** : Ugh, fine. Text me back when you’re ready to stop being a child

**Blaine** : Or when you’re ready for another date. Whatever comes first :)

 

~~~~

 

**224**

Blaine had never been more ready for a competition to be over. By the time Regionals rolled around, he would be perfectly happy to never dance again. Ever.

It was a two and a half hour bus trip, and all he wanted to do was nap, but his phone kept insistently buzzing in his pocket, and he finally resigned himself to the fact that if he didn’t start responding to all the text messages, whoever it was sending them was just going to keep going until he threw his phone out the window. (Okay, he was being a little overdramatic, but he was tired. Sue him.)

Half of the messages—and there were close to twenty of them—were from Jeff, whose lame I’m-nervous-but-won’t-admit-it jokes were in rare form. Blaine smiled despite himself and sent back a few one-liners of his own—cheesy pickup lines never failed to get Jeff laughing, and Blaine had been googling them for weeks to bother Sebastian with, so he had plenty in reserve. He saved a few to respond to Trent’s usual ‘we are going to kick your team’s ass because we’re amazing’ teasing.

There were two from Sebastian, spaced out over an hour. The first just read “Warblers on a bus. Save me,” and the second, an hour later, asked, “Whatever happens today, would you want to come over and celebrate this weekend?”

“I have no intention of saving you from your own team,” he responded. “They’re your responsibility now, not mine.”

He thought about it for a minute, then added, “And yes, that would be great. We have a thing tonight, but I’m free Saturday.”

The response came a minute later. “Saturday then.”

He was about to put his phone away when it buzzed again. “If you’re surrounded by your lame friends today, does that mean I’m not allowed to get my hands on you? Because that would suck.”

Blaine chuckled. “I will be surrounded by a small army of New Directioners who are sworn to protect my virtue. So hands off, I’m afraid.”

“I just laughed so loud that Nick and Jeff are giving me funny looks. Virtue. As if I haven’t gotten in your bed before.”

“That was one time, and you snuck in while I was asleep. Doesn’t count.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to give it another go.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“And I certainly intend to.”

 

~~~~

 

**225**

After two and a half hours on the bus, Blaine was glad they had arrived at the theater if only for the opportunity to stretch his legs and not listen to Sam and Tina singing bad summer camp songs anymore. The whole group of them, enthusiastic and nervous and jittery, charged up and into the building, heading for the dressing rooms while Mr. Scheuster checked them in.

Blaine fell behind quickly, scoping out the crowd to see if he could catch a glimpse of blue Dalton blazers as they filed down the back hallways. There were eight show choirs in total performing that day, and each of them had a gathering space somewhere.

He didn’t expect the arm slid through his own, and he _certainly_ wasn’t prepared to be dragged into an empty rehearsal room and pushed up against the door.

“Holy wow, hi,” he managed when Sebastian finally stopped kissing him long enough to take a breath.

Sebastian chuckled softly, his breath warm where he was pressing his lips to Blaine’s neck. “Two minutes. Just give me two minutes and then I’ll let you go.”

That sounded like one of the best ideas Sebastian had proposed in a long time, and he was kissing Blaine in a way that just made him _melt_ , so yes, two minutes it was. Two minutes of Sebastian’s hands gripping his hips and his arms around Sebastian’s neck and there was nothing graceful or even remotely romantic about it, just every kiss and every touch they could manage.

“We really can’t keep sneaking around,” Blaine whispered the minute his mouth was free (because Sebastian didn’t stop kissing, hell no, he was just moving down Blaine’s neck again).

“Sure we can,” Sebastian responded, looking at Blaine with a wicked grin, “it’ll be fun. I’ll get you all messed up and send you back out into the ridiculous lion’s den that is your group of friends. You know I love watching you squirm.”

“You’re a jerk.” Blaine resisted the urge to kick him in the shins, settled for more kissing instead.

“Whatever, you like it.”

Sebastian released him after closer to five minutes than two, so that he didn’t even have time to protest when Sebastian smacked his butt on the way out. He knew people would be looking for him and if he tried to get handsy at that moment, well, he’d never get back. They’d be found the next day still at it.

He tried not to think of how appealing that was as he smoothed his hair, straightened his tie, and took several long, deep breaths.

Show time.

 

~~~~

 

**226**

 

The Warblers were up first, which was just great, because 1) classics were sort of their _thing_ and 2) Blaine had to admit that there was a solid chance of them shutting down the competition before it even got a chance to get started. So as he sat in the audience, one hand clutching Tina’s and the other twirling a pen just to have something to fidget with, he had to resist the urge to just say “screw it” and go home. That wouldn’t be very good teammate behavior.

The first thing he noticed when the lights came up was that there was a piano onstage. A piano for an acapella group. That was either a mistake or the Warblers were about to do something completely different.

When Trent strutted out onstage, alone but brimming with confidence, Blaine had his answer. Someone in the audience whistled and Trent blew a kiss in their direction without breaking stride. He stood behind the piano, took a deep breath, and hit the first chord.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.” God, Blaine had forgotten what a great voice he had. This was going to be killer.

From the back of the auditorium, Jeff’s voice picked up the next line as he strode forward into the lights. “Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.” As he finished, he jumped up onstage. Trent lifted a hand from the keys to high five him, perfectly timed between notes. As Trent continued the song, the other Warblers emerged from the wings and the auditorium. There was no choreography, no order, just loose—Nick danced a little, which made Sebastian laugh so much he almost missed his line, and Trent pulled off another perfectly timed high five with Dave.

Then the rest of the group came in with the harmony and the bass line, and as they started to line up onstage they were absolutely _beaming_. And it was more than just the song, because he could feel the audience picking up on it too, and some of the guys had their arms around each other’s shoulders and their laughter and their energy kept building as Trent carried the song.

When Sebastian sang his solo line, he was looking straight at Blaine. “So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin, you’re waiting for someone to perform with,” and Blaine felt his heart do a little flip.

By the time the Warblers got to the final chorus, the entire audience was singing along. Everyone was smiling so huge that it was a miracle they could continue, and the New Directions were no exception. It was unlike any competition piece they’d seen before, different and looser and far less formal than the Warblers had ever pulled off, and they were pulling it off through sheer charisma ad making the audience feel the joy right along with them.

Blaine could only think that they were completely and totally screwed. Not that it kept him from returning Sebastian’s smile.

 

~~~~

 

**227**

Dave felt like there was a 50% chance of him passing out onstage.

There was nervous, and then there was barely repressed panic, and as the rest of the guys brought “Hey Jude” to its big finale, he felt himself careening wildly toward the latter. But there was no time to think, because the group was already starting to form a new bass line, building and piling on the energy from the last song. And as the choreography began, he felt two strong hands pushing forward and Trent’s voice in his ear, “Show them what you got.”

The audience cheered as they recognized the opening bars of “Born to Run,” and Dave stepped forward and sang with all his might.

He was glad (somewhere in his heart that wasn’t too busy freaking out) that everyone else got to focus on the choreography while he carried the song, because there was no way dance moves were happening when all his energy was going into singing. Jeff had done the choreography and, in a complete contrast to the first song, it was _intense_. At least three of the guys did backflips. It was nuts. Dave’s job was to stay out of the way.

He sang the entire melody by himself, except on the bridge when all the guys shouted the “whoa” as loud as they could, pumping their fists in the air. The audience did too; just out beyond the lights he could see them cheering and dancing.

_He loved this goddamn song_. He loved it with absolutely every bit of his heart. He even loved singing it. He loved that he had been trusted to carry this huge, incredible moment.

It was over too soon, of course, as all good things are, and after what felt like seconds he was singing the last lines with all his might. And when he got to the final “Tramps like us,” it was huge and energetic and all the rest of the Warblers were shouting it with him, then everybody was piling on him, slapping his back and high fiving him and yelling like complete morons. There was still the end of the song to sing, but no one could be bothered, and the audience was going absolutely nuts for them.

He was swept backstage with them, and everyone was still shouting and cheering for him and Trent and then Sebastian and Jeff and Nick threw their arms around him. He was sweating and out of breath and probably crying, but he felt so good he didn’t care. He smiled so wide he couldn’t stop even when Trent kissed him. For a brief, shining moment, he felt like that this must be what it was like to fly.

 

~~~~

 

**228**

They were completely screwed. Even Mr. Scheuster had trouble coming up with an inspirational speech, and that guy was _never_ at a loss for words.

Blaine tried not to focus on that fact as they filed out onstage. Still, there was something about the song "Dream a Little Dream of Me" that always made Blaine misty eyed, and based on the team's reaction when Tina suggested it, he wasn't the only one. Mr. Scheuster teared up and Artie sighed, sending Tina a fond smile. It was apparently a "thing," one he had missed before he knew them.

  
He also always seemed to forget how great of a singer Tina was. She glowed onstage, and under the softly filtered spotlight she and Artie were haloed in gold. Blaine and the rest of the New Directions stood behind them, but when she and Artie turned to face each other, he saw the familiar comfort they had with each other. It made something in his chest twinge and go tight.

He was also really, REALLY nervous, but focusing on singing the soft harmony behind his teammates made it a little easier. He didn't need to be the center of attention for a few more minutes yet--  
Until the song ended and the piano was wheeled onstage, because that was his cue.

  
He attempted to channel as much smooth confidence as he could. It probably didn't work.

Thankfully, he banged out the first chords in a quick, precise staccato, and his voice didn't shake as he began the first lines of "Build me up Buttercup."

  
Once the rest of the team joined in, though, it was so much easier. He trusted them. They knew what they were supposed to do, and they were GOOD, and they would make him look good, too.

  
Halfway through the song, he risked a glance at the audience. He caught a glimpse of brilliantly blond hair -- Jeff, dancing along -- and Sebastian's enormous smile.

He didn't falter, but it was a close one. Tina practically tackled him as they dashed offstage, the audience going nuts in their wake.

 

~~~~

**229**

The rest of the performances turned out to be so nerve wracking that Sam finally grabbed Blaine by the arm and marched him into the hallway to calm down. They did breathing exercises. Blaine had no idea where Sam, of all people, had learned breathing exercises, but they were actually really helpful once Sam stopped giggling.

  
He was finally able to keep his hands from shaking when Tina burst out of the doors and told them to get their butts onstage, NOW, they were in the top three, and actually snagged their collars. (Blaine was a little surprised she didn't actually go for their ears.)

  
So, long story short, that was how Blaine ended up onstage surrounded by nervous members of New Directions and less than three feet from Sebastian. His life was so weird.

  
The day's emcee, some two bit local celebrity who usually appeared at the openings of grocery stores and car lots, was ready to announce the third place winners, who would not be moving on to Nationals in Chicago. She had enormously teased blonde hair and even bigger front teeth, which practically reflected the spotlight as she opened the envelope to announce --

Blaine took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Tina squeezed his hand. On his other side, Artie tensed.

"Vocal Adrenaline, congratulations on your third-place finish!"

He released his breath, quickly wiping his sweaty palms on his pants before accepting reassuring handshakes with dispirited (but still smiling, they were always smiling, it was rather creepy, actually) Vocal Adrenaline members. All things considered, they handled it gracefully.

When they had cleared the stage, the odd magnetism of nerves drew Directioners and Warblers closer until shoulders actually brushed. Blaine glanced at Sebastian from the corner of his eye, but he had one arm around Trent's shoulders and was saying something in his ear, so he didn't notice.

Local Celebrity Lady was grinning so wide it looked like it hurt a little as she made a gesture encompassing the two remaining teams. "Congratulations to our top two groups! You both were amazing. Weren't they amazing, folks?"

The crowd applauded politely. Something about her smile was unnerving. She didn't seem to notice.

"Alright. I have the results in my hands here. The team going to Nationals is..."

Blaine squeezed Tina and Artie's hands.

"Both of you! It's a tie!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Sebastian whooped in triumph and everyone onstage went crazy, piling onto each other, yelling and hugging and slapping backs indiscriminately. Blaine had a moment of surprise when he found himself wrapped in a Dave Karofsky bear hug, but was too busy congratulating him to think about it.

He caught Dave's enormous smile before the big guy winked and, with his arms still around Blaine's waist, made a quick turn--

And he was encircled by familiar arms and even more familiar cologne. A pair of lips were quickly pressed to his cheek, accompanied by a low chuckle in his ear.

He was so stunned by everything that he didn't even have the sense to hold onto Sebastian before the power of two combined teams swept him offstage.


	24. Chapter 24

**No warnings for this chapter except some sexytimes ;)**

 

 **230**  
Dave felt like yelling and running around in circles and hugging everyone. All at once, if at all possible.  
The Warblers ran offstage in a cheering knot and he let their force carry him into the lobby, where the audience was already filing out. At the sight of the boys in uniform, people began to cheer and applaud. And yeah, that was awesome.  
He accepted congratulations, handshakes and backslaps, punctuated by the occasional hug (Jeff, Sophie, who was apparently playing hooky from Crawford, and Jeff again), and he couldn't stop smiling. Sebastian and Trent were at his sides, both of them grinning ear to ear, surrounded by the same enthusiastic crowd and apparently loving every second of it.  
He focused when he felt Sebastian tap his elbow. His roommate just raised his eyebrows and pointed.  
Dave's dad stood a few feet away, a scarf in Dalton red and blue tossed around his neck and a program in one hand.  
Dave froze for a split second -- it was an automatic reaction. But then his dad smiled at him, and maybe there were tears in his eyes, and the little knot of ice in the center of Dave's chest, the one that sat next to his heart and made it difficult to breathe at night when his mind wandered and he let himself be lonely, just melted. Trent squeezed his arm reassuringly and, with a smile, turned away with Sebastian to give them some privacy.  
"Hey, dad."  
"Hi, Dave. That was... that was a hell of a show. Congratulations."  
"Thanks. I, uh, I'm surprised they gave me a solo but it was really fun. Crazy hard work, though, I had no idea dancing and singing at the same time was so hard, and..." He was babbling, he realized, shutting his mouth. But his dad was just smiling, and there were definitely tears in his eyes.  
Dave swallowed hard. They'd seen each other twice since Dave brought his things to Dalton in September. Neither occasion had been exactly cheerful. "Thanks. I mean, for coming."  
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."  
And. Well. That felt pretty damn good, and Dave knew he was about two seconds away from crying.  
The hug, though-- the hug caught him off guard and it was the best surprise of his entire damn year.  
"I'm so proud of you, Dave. I love you so much."  
"I love you too, dad."  
By the time he stepped back there were tears in his eyes, too, but hell if he was going to cry in front of so many people, so he swiped at his eyes under the guise of clearing his throat. Trent chose that exact moment to bump into his side, because he was a genius and the best possibly-a-boyfriend ever.  
"Oh. Dad. This is Trent."  
"Hi." Trent extended a hand, all confident smiles and excesses of charm, and god, Dave loved him. "It's so nice to meet you."  
"Same to you, Trent. Congratulations on going to Nationals, that was a great song you performed."  
"Thank you, it's one of my favorites. I don't think I'd have the confidence if it wasn't for Dave, though, he's been a great addition to the team."  
"I'm glad to hear it. Dave, I'll let you get back to your friends, but, give me a call when you have a chance?" It was a question with an edge of nervousness to it.  
"Yeah. I, uh, yeah, I will. We'll talk soon."  
He didn't realize he was trembling until he and his dad parted ways and he stepped back into the crowd of Warblers. Trent's hand slipped easily into his own and they exchanged reassuring smiles.  
"Hell of a day. Come on, let's get back to Dalton. We're throwing you a party."

 

~~~~

**231**

**Sebastian:** Congrats on ALSO making Nationals!  
 **Sebastian:** I mean, it goes without saying we're going to crush you, but still.  
 **Sebastian:** Yay!  
 **Sebastian:** So I know you said you have a thing with your lame friends tonight  
 **Sebastian:** But I thought I'd take a moment to remind you that you promised tomorrow night to yours truly :)  
 **Sebastian:** Also a reminder that you have a standing invite to my place.  
 **Sebastian:** So tomorrow night, your ass is mine.  
 **Sebastian:** Um  
 **Sebastian:** I mean that metaphorically  
 **Sebastian:** Or, you know, literally if you want to  
 **Sebastian:** Always an option  
 **Sebastian:** So  
 **Sebastian:** I mean  
 **Sebastian:** Good lord, I have really screwed this conversation up  
 **Sebastian:** Please just delete this  
 **Sebastian:** All of it

"Jeff, please take this phone away from me."  
"You're an idiot. Give it here."

~~~~

 

**232**

Blaine was faking confidence. He seemed to be doing an awful lot of that, lately, but he never needed to when walking up to Sebastian's front door.  
That said a lot, he thought, about how far their relationship had progressed. When they first met, Blaine had always felt somewhat out of his depth -- he stumbled through conversations, laughing at jokes a fraction of a second too late, blushing all the time because Sebastian kept up an impressive run of dirty jokes and innuendo. Over the last few months, though, they'd found their places. It mostly involved Blaine making more dirty jokes, but there was a feeling of ease, like they fell into a rhythm.  
Which made it all the stranger that his hands were sweating as he parked his car and walked up. It was Saturday evening and he was sleep-deprived from staying up the previous night with his New Directions friends, celebrating their invitation to Nationals. Earlier in the afternoon, Sebastian had texted to ask if he still wanted to get together, joking about straight up kidnapping him if the answer was no, and, despite the fatigue and lingering headache, Blaine had immediately answered yes.  
Sebastian had told him to just let himself in, so he stepped in the front door. Music was playing somewhere in the house, but it was muffled and the lyrics indistinct.  
"Hello?" he called over it, shucking his coat and shoes.  
There was a clatter from somewhere down the hall and Sebastian stuck his head out of one of the doors. He smiled when he saw Blaine standing there. "Bee! Come on in, I was just finishing up with"-- He was interrupted by a clattering sound. "God dammit, I gotta"-- He turned back before finishing the sentence.  
Blaine, chuckling, followed him, stepping into the kitchen. It was huge. Ridiculously, over the top huge. Seriously, Blaine had seen restaurant kitchens that were smaller.  
The center island was absolutely covered with stuff: discarded mixing bowls, copper saucepans, an open bag of flour, cans of cocoa spilling everywhere. A recipe book perched on top of the entire mess.  
"Do I want to know?" Blaine asked dryly, taking a peek at the book. It was open to a page about chocolate cake.  
Sebastian glanced around. He was standing by the sink attempting to balance several pans at once. It wasn't working. "Um. Probably not? I promise I have a REALLY good reason, though."  
"Which is...?"  
Sebastian dumped the pans in the sink with a shrug. "I dunno, I'll think of one. Something along the lines of bribing Sophie into eating something. She's dancing, I think, five hours a day at this point, she can totally handle being taste-tester for my unfounded belief in my cooking abilities. I made coffee. You look like you need coffee."  
Blaine just smiled and stopped trying to keep up. Sebastian occasionally operated at full tilt, and it looked like that afternoon had been one of those times. He gratefully accepted the mug, though.  
Sebastian downed his in one gulp, winced, and refilled. "You look tired. Your friends finally learn how to party?"  
"We always knew how to party, Sebastian. Remind me to tell you about Rachel Berry's ridiculous party sophomore year. It was simultaneously epic and terrible."  
"Is that the one where you made out with her? Hell, no, I don't want to hear about that. Come on, you look like you might fall over, let's put on a movie."  
Blaine let himself be snagged by Sebastian's arm. "Shouldn't you clean up?"  
"Nah, it'll still be there tomorrow. Don't look at me like that. What are we watching?"  
"The Princess Bride?"  
"Yeeeeeees."

~~~~

**233**

**There’s sex in this chapter! (Nothing overly graphic.)**

They didn't end up actually watching the whole movie. Or anything after the first five minutes, really.  
Blaine decided to lay the blame completely on Sebastian, who was the most distracting person on the planet when he wanted to be. And based on the way he was nuzzling into Blaine's neck, pressing warm kisses into the crook of his jaw, and sliding his hands under his sweater, that's exactly what he was aiming for.  
"We're not going to watch any of this movie, are we?" he asked with a grin.  
He felt Sebastian's smile against his collarbone. "Nah, this is way more entertaining."  
"I'm not -- oh -- arguing." Blaine's mind was starting to short-circuit a little as the warmth from Sebastian's hands and lips spread over his skin. “We should go upstairs.”

He blurted it out before he had a chance to actually process the thought. Had he taken more than a second, he would have been more subtle.

Sebastian looked up at him, sudden and sharp, hair disheveled and eyes wide. Blaine recognized the hesitant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You sure?"  
He nodded.

"Really sure?"  
Blaine smiled back. "Absolutely sure."  
"Okay. I. Um. I just wanted to check -- you know, enthusiastic consent and all, and... um."  
Blaine started to laugh. The idea of Sebastian, of all people, getting nervous at that moment was just too much.  
"What's so funny?"  
Blaine ran a hand through Sebastian's hair fondly. "You. And yes, I am completely sure. Are you?"  
"Yes."  
"Well let's go, then."  
Their progress upstairs was graceless, pulling at each other's hands and tripping over their own feet in their enthusiasm. Sebastian barely managed to kick the door shut with his heel, distracted by Blaine tugging his shirt over his head. He got tangled, momentarily, and retaliated by lifting Blaine clear off the floor and tossing him on the bed.  
Sex with Sebastian turned out to be far different than Blaine had imagined (and he had spent quite a lot of time imagining it). They were comfortable with each other, secure in their mutual affection, and a year of anticipation made it exciting. They laughed. They kissed. They explored each other, greedy, smiling where lips brushed and pressed to skin.  
It was fun and enthusiastic and exhilarating... Until the moment when it wasn't, when Blaine's fingers tightened on Sebastian's hips and he responded by sinking his teeth into Blaine's shoulder with a groan. Then there was space for nothing but touch and gasps and breath.  
When they were finished, exhausted, they lay tangled with Blaine's head resting on Sebastian's shoulder. He could hear his heartbeat as it slowed, could practically feel Sebastian's smile.  
"We are SO doing that again."

 

~~~~

 

**234**

They slept tangled up in each other and woke up late in the morning. Sebastian shivered, looking around for a second before he realized that Blaine had stolen all the covers during the night, so he was only visible from the nose up. He hooked an arm around his waist and tugged, unrolling him enough that he could wiggle into the blankets. Blaine muttered something under his breath and scooted closer so his back pressed tight against Sebastian’s chest.

“I’ve decided something,” Sebastian said into Blaine’s messy hair. He only got a muffled “hm?” in response, so he kept going. “I’m keeping you.”

That earned him a sleepy laugh. “Oh yeah? And what if I don’t want to keep you?”

“Of course you do. I’m amazing.”

“Modest, too.”

“One of my many virtues. Can I take you out again sometime this week?”

“Didn’t you tell me once you don’t do dates?”

“I probably did at some point. Come on, what do you say?”

Blaine hummed a noncommittal note that Sebastian felt all the way down to his toes. ( _Dear lord, I am so screwed._ ) “Not this week. Between glee club and Tina forcing me out for a belated birthday dinner, I’m gonna be really busy.”

Sebastian, who had been drifting off into a contented half doze, was suddenly completely alert. “Wait. Birthday?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was two weeks ago.”

“Blaine. _Blaine_. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I think you were busy? Anyway, it’s no big deal. Sam and a couple other people from glee club took me out. Tina had something going on so she’s insisting on making it up to me.”

Sebastian rolled Blaine onto his back so he could see his face. “Bee, it’s _totally_ a big deal. Even if it would have been an epically bad idea for me to crash your birthday dinner… I mean, I at least want to do something nice for you.”

Blaine smiled, then leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss. “Alright, fine. You can make it up to me if it’ll make you happy.”

“Awesome.” Without further ado, Sebastian jumped out of bed, utterly unselfconscious of the fact that he was still naked. Then, with a devious grin, he reached down and snagged Blaine in his arms, pulling him out of the bed and to his feet. “This calls for birthday sex. Shower time!”

 

~~~~

 

**235**

**Blaine** : Hey I forgot to ask, what are you doing this weekend?

 **Sebastian** : Gonna be in Chicago. Why?

 **Blaine** : No reason. Why Chicago?

 **Sebastian** : Sophie’s audition for Juilliard!

 **Sebastian:** Her and Jeff, actually, for dance and Trent for music. Did you know he was auditioning? I didn’t!

 **Sebastian:**  Anyway I’m driving them down, it’s gonna be a big-whole day thing. Then my interview for NYU.

 **Blaine** : Oh wow, that’s fantastic. How long will you be gone?

 **Sebastian** : We’re leaving Thursday, audition is Friday, Saturday is my NYU interview, coming back Sunday.

 **Sebastian** : Can I take you out properly when I get back?

 **Blaine** : Sebastian Smythe. Did you just ask me on a date?

 **Sebastian** : Holy shit, I did

 **Sebastian** : Imagine that

 **Blaine** : Well the answer is yes.

 **Sebastian** : As if you could say no

 

~~~~

 

**236**

Blaine was walking to English on Thursday afternoon when his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. It was from Sophie.

 **Sophie** : And we’re off! Pray for my safe return. Seb is a scary driver.

Blaine grinned but didn’t have time to respond before the bell rang and he slipped his phone into his back pocket. He felt it buzz, once, in the middle of class but decided to wait on it—the teacher was unusually alert that day, and he _really_ didn’t feel like missing Glee for detention. So he waited until he was back in the hall.

 **Sophie** : Have I mentioned Seb likes to sing and dance at stoplights?

Well that had interesting opportunities for blackmail written all over it. It would, at the very least, be funny.

 **Blaine** : Prove it.

 **Sophie** : Ask and you shall receive.

His phone buzzed again. A video clip was attached to the message, which only read “Glad you came.” Oh, this was going to be good.

He walked into the choir room. There was still about fifteen minutes before Glee started, so no one else was there. Perfect: privacy so he could laugh all he wanted. He took a seat in the back row and pressed “play.”

The song “Glad you came” blared from his phone’s tiny speaker as the video started. Sebastian was behind the wheel of his car, and yes, he was dancing like a complete idiot in the seat, fist pumping and singing along. He could hear Sophie’s muffled giggles from behind her phone, before she suddenly yelled, “Green light!”

“Oh, shit!” Sebastian grabbed the wheel and burst out laughing. That was where the video ended, and Blaine was glad because he was laughing so hard he felt tears in his eyes.

 **Blaine** : That was the greatest thing in the history of anything. Ever.

 **Sophie** : I know! My turn to drive in a few minutes, though. Enjoy your afternoon, wonderboy.

He really had to get the Smythe siblings to drop that nickname.

 

~~~

 

**237**

Friday drifted by as it always did, lazily, taking its time and making him wait for the two days he so desperately needed off. While he didn’t mind school so much and he loved his friends, really he did, it would be nice to spend some time alone, sleeping in, watching a movie and worrying about no one’s schedule but his own.

He got periodic text message updates from Sebastian throughout the day. In the morning, a picture of Sophie and Jeff pointing to the Juilliard audition sign: “Audition starts in 20 minutes!” Two hours later: “First session passed.” At lunch: “Second session done. On to the solo performance. I think I’m more nervous than Sophie is.”

He laughed at that, but was unable to respond as Tina wanted his full attention on the plan for nationals. A few hours later, when he checked his phone right before Glee, he had three messages.

 **Sebastian** : Good news: Sophie and Jeff both completed all four of the sessions and got called back for the interview! That = very good news

 **Sebastian** : Why are you ignoring me? I’m sitting in a coffee shop, ALONE, bored as hell

 **Sebastian** : By the way, Sophie was giggling suspiciously yesterday. What did she do??

Blaine grabbed his usual chair in the back of the room. He wasn’t planning on performing anything that day, so no one would be grabbing his phone from him.

 **Blaine** : Tell her I say congrats. And as for that last part, I’ve been sworn to secrecy.

 **Sebastian** : I knew you were involved somehow

 **Blaine** : Me? I had nothing to do with it. I’m an angel.

 **Sebastian** : You just keep telling yourself that

 **Blaine** : I will tell you that I have excellent blackmail material on you, though.

 **Sebastian** : I should be pissed, but I’m actually kind of proud. I’m rubbing off on you

 **Blaine** : I also always liked “Glad You Came”

 **Sebastian** : NO

 **Sebastian** : She didn’t

 **Blaine** : She did.

 **Sebastian** : That little bitch

 **Sebastian** : Hang on, this means war.

It took less than three seconds before his phone buzzed again, another video clip attached. When he hit ‘play,’ the video began in the back seat of the same car. Sophie was singing along to “Since U Been Gone”… and she did _not_ sound good. Enthusiastic, yes. On key? Nope.

The video panned over to show Jeff in the front seat, singing just as intensely. Trent sat in the driver’s seat, glaring daggers at his passenger. Blaine could hear Sebastian laughing from behind the camera before it cut off abruptly midway through the chorus.

 **Blaine** : That is hilarious.

 **Sebastian** : It was a very long car trip between those three idiots.

 **Blaine** : I can only imagine.

 **Blaine:** Gotta go, rehearsal is starting.

 **Sebastian** : Don’t abandon me to boredom, I beg you!

 **Blaine** : Imagine me naked

 **Sebastian:** God dammit I’m in public!

 

~~~~

 

**238**

**Sebastian** : Are you lost? It’s so strange to see an angel so far from heaven.

 **Blaine** : Can I borrow a quarter? My mom said to call home when I fell in love.

 **Sebastian** : Somebody call the cops, it’s GOT to be illegal to look that good.

 **Blaine** : Did you know they changed the alphabet? They put U and I together.

 **Sebastian** : Is your father a thief? Because he stole the sparkle from the stars and put it in your eyes.

 **Blaine** : Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?

 **Sebastian** : Do I know you? You look a lot like my next boyfriend.

 **Blaine** : Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.

 **Sebastian** : I give up!

 **Blaine** : People call me Blaine, but you can call me tonight.

 **Blaine** : It’s a good thing I wore gloves today—you’re too hot to handle!

 **Sebastian** : Have mercy

 **Blaine** : Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow. Should I call you or just nudge you?

 **Sebastian** : People at the other tables are staring at me

 **Blaine** : I win!

 

~~~~

 

**239**

“But Blaine. _Blaine_. This is crucial.”

“I know, Sam, but… Really?”

“Yes. Tina, stop making that face at me.”

“I’ll stop making a face when you stop being ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being prepared. I’m making _plans_.”

“I know, Sam, and believe me, we’re proud of you. But The Avengers doesn’t come out until May. It’s _February_.”

“This is the perfect time to start making plans. You don’t go into midnight showings unprepared, Blaine.”

Blaine made a face and threw a handful of popcorn at his friend. Most of it landed on Tina, though, and she retaliated by throwing an m&m down the front of his shirt.

“Guys. Focus,” Sam interrupted before the conversation could devolve into an all-out food fight.

“Sam, for the last time, we will totally discuss this at another time when the premiere is less than a month away. But for right now, I want to talk about more immediately relevant things.” Tina poked Blaine’s cheek. “Like how your super-secret relationship is going.”

He knew his eyes had gone deer-in-the-headlights wide and stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth to avoid answering. Blushing at this moment would lead to endless embarrassment. “Everything’s fine.”

Sam and Tina raised an eyebrow each in perfect unison.

“Just fine?” Tina repeated.

“Is that code for he’s being a jerk again? I _will_ kick his ass,” Sam added.

“I’ll help,” Tina seconded. Her eyebrows came together in a deadly line.

Blaine instinctively flinched back into the corner of the couch. “No, no, really, everything’s okay. I mean it. He’s on his best behavior.” He took a second to rethink that last part. “Or. You know. Something like it.”

Sam nodded approvingly. “Good.”

Leave it to Tina, though, to come up with a sneak attack just when Blaine’s shoulders came down from their defensive position around his ears. “So when are you going to tell everyone else?”

“I don’t know. Never? Never sounds good.”

“It’s going to start looking suspicious if you keep sneaking around.”

Blaine just whimpered and hid behind the popcorn bowl. “Can we change the subject?”

Tina took pity and patted his knee. “Of course. But think about it. Hell, I’ll even lay the groundwork for you.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this chapter is shameless filler of my headcanons for the LMTUYS cast!

 

**Random headcanons about the LMTUYS characters**

**Sebastian**

  *          Never met a cupcake he didn't like.
  *          He and Sophie started dance classes at the age of 4. For the first year, they were in the same tap and ballet classes. Soon, though, their interests diverged. Sebastian stuck with tap until the twins moved to Paris at the age of fourteen.
  *          Fluent in French and English, since he grew up speaking both at home. He can also speak basic German, thanks to a friend he had in Paris. His accent is terrible.
  *          His mother owns a Pomeranian named Bijoux. Yes, really. When he and Sophie moved to Paris, the dog attached itself to Sebastian immediately. Everyone expected him to hate it, but he adored that dog. They would walk to a nearby park almost every afternoon and throw a tennis ball for hours. Sophie found them napping on the couch, the dog nuzzled against Sebastian’s chest, at least once a week.
  *          Making him pancakes is a foolproof way into his good graces.
  *          He learned how to cook when Sophie was ill and won’t ever admit how much he likes it. He certainly doesn’t have Nick’s skill in the kitchen, but he keeps trying because it makes him feel good to take care of the people he cares about. As long as they like pasta or soup, because that’s about the extent of his ability.



**Blaine**

  *          Terrified of going into aquariums. He has no idea why.
  *          Always wanted to learn to play the cello, but never got the chance. Plus, he mentioned it to Cooper once, who spent the rest of the day making jokes about how he was too short to carry a cello.
  *          His iPod is half full of boy bands, which surprises no one. What does surprise people is his epic collection of jazz music. He listens to it when doing homework, reading, or soaking in the tub. (He does the last one more than he’ll admit to.)
  *          If it were possible, he would live entirely on coffee with vanilla almond milk, one sugar. He doesn’t have a thing against regular milk—he doesn’t even remember how he started using almond milk instead—but he likes how it tastes much better.
  *          The caffeine in regular coffee has never really bothered him or made him too hyper. The only thing he can’t handle is Vietnamese coffee. He loves it, but it makes his hair stand on end.



 

 

**Sophie**

  *          Keeps her hair long because she is insecure about her ‘boyish’ body—flat chest, narrow hips, angular shoulders—that makes her look so much like her brother. In fact, put her in a Dalton uniform and the teachers probably wouldn’t bat an eye. Hence, the waist-length hair.
  *          Had a chance, at twelve, to attend a prestigious ballet school in Paris, but turned it down because the discipline required to become a professional ballerina drives her crazy.
  *          Despite the fact that she should be sticking to a strict diet, she can’t resist junk food. She can eat a family-size bag of Hot Cheetos in a single sitting.
  *          The first time she and her brother watched The Prestige, they sat, open-mouthed in shock, for a good ten minutes. They then proceeded to re-watch it twice and spend over an hour practicing the original version of the Transported Man trick.



**Jeff**

  *          His favorite movie is Friday Night Lights, despite having never picked up a football.
  *          Just like his total inability to cook, it is also unwise to trust him to do laundry. That is, unless you like all your clothes to come out different colors than they went in. He follows the directions to the letter, but it always happens. Nick does his laundry for him.
  *          Has a strange and inexplicable fear of butterflies. The way they fly creeps him out.
  *          Never give him a camera at parties. Just don’t do it. Once he gets his hands on one, he spends the entire night half-tackling people, throwing an arm around them, yelling, “Say cheese,” taking a picture and running away. Facebook is full of pictures of him grinning like a maniac next to confused Warblers.



**Nick**

  *          “Accidentally” takes one of Jeff’s tee shirts when he does their laundry, then apologetically returns it a day or so later. This has been going on since freshman year. Jeff _never_ noticed.
  *          While he dreams of cooking gourmet meals, his go-to comfort food is macaroni and cheese.
  *          No one works harder at giving people presents than he does. Every year, he starts Christmas shopping around Halloween. He puts a lot of thought into what he buys all his closest friends, suiting gifts perfectly to their personalities and tastes. His secret is that he makes mental notes throughout the year of what everyone likes—junior year he managed to find a book Trent mentioned once, three months earlier.
  *          He and Jeff got angry and stopped speaking to each other exactly once since they met on the first day of kindergarten. It was three weeks into their freshman year, and they were overwhelmed with the stress of transferring to Dalton. Not speaking was _torture_. They lasted four hours.



**Trent**

  *          He loves baseball, and played outfielder on local little league teams until high school. He still has a hell of an arm.
  *          Cries at the end of The Princess Bride every. Single. Time. If you ask him, he will deny it.
  *          Occasionally, especially when he is worried about something, he suffers from insomnia. He deals with it by sneaking off campus, getting in his car, and driving randomly for an hour or so, listening to music. He has a lot of Bruce Springsteen and Tom Waits on his iPod.
  *          He would never admit that the future scares him to death. His college application is a big risk, and if it backfires, he has no idea what he’d do. But beyond that, he has a deep but very secret existential fear of growing up. He simply can’t picture getting married or raising kids. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s frightening.
  *          He will tell anyone who asks that his mother, who is raising him on her own, is his best friend.



 

 

**Dave**

  *          Absolutely _loves_ the Back to the Future trilogy, and used to dress as Marty McFly for Halloween.
  *          Secretly wants to have kids by the time he’s thirty. Lots of kids. A whole football team’s worth of kids. Half girls and half boys. All of them, girls and boys alike, would be encouraged to play sports, make art, and learn math and science. He believes very strongly in raising his kids as equals.
  *          If he grew out his hair, it would be very curly. He thinks it looks stupid, so he keeps it short.
  *          As part of his long-term therapy, his doctor suggested he keep what he calls a Good Thing Jar: at the end of every day, he writes something good that happened on a slip of paper and puts it in a jar. He thought it was stupid at first, but every day, without fail, he sits down before bed and writes at least one thing down. Some days—especially as the year at Dalton goes on—he writes more than one. He keeps it in the bottom drawer of his desk, and by January, it overflows.



 

 

**Wes**

  *          He knows the Warblers refer to him as “Papa Duck” behind his back because of how he cares for all his friends. He pretends he doesn’t know.
  *          Secretly loves bad reality television. No show is too trashy. It makes him feel better when he’s had a rough day.
  *          He once described himself as the living embodiment of the Socially Awkward Penguin, and the rest of the Warblers burst out laughing because that was the most accurate description of him anyone had ever come up with. He’s well intentioned, but was a painfully shy child, and he’s still working his way out of his shell.
  *          Secret talent: yo-yo stunts. Don’t ask.
  *          Daydreams of being a drummer in a rock band.



 

 

**Character Profile: Cassandra (Cassie) Smythe**

Please note: This section will contain a reference to the problems I have already written about in the Smythe household, including domestic violence. This reference will be short and in no way graphic.

When I wrote this, Cassie had not yet been introduced, but I think it still stands as a way to flesh out her character while she's offstage, so to speak. 

 

Cassie is seven years older than her siblings, making her twenty-five during the story. The birth of the twins was a bit of a surprise, and at first, she didn’t handle it well. She was, like a lot of very young kids, jealous of the new babies getting attention from her beloved mother. She was extra disappointed when one turned out to be a boy—she asked her mom if they could put Sebastian back and get another sister.

The jealousy didn’t last long, however, once the twins came home. Cassie was fascinated with the tiny babies, and was confidently holding them when they were only two days old. She sat in bed next to her mother, holding one of the twins as her mother fed the other. She loved how they would grab onto her fingers, Sebastian especially.

Cassie was a quiet but very cheerful child who loved to draw. You could follow her around the house by the trail of dropped crayons and colored pencils. When the twins learned to walk (Sebastian first, Sophie a month later) they toddled after her, clinging to her skirt until they tugged her down. Wherever they fell, they would set up camp and color.

Cassie learned to bake at a young age by watching her mother, who spent her Saturdays making pastries for the women’s group at her church. The creativity—creating the flavors and especially the decorating—appealed to her artistic personality. She didn’t have any talent for it, at first—her first attempt at cupcakes turned into chocolate hockey pucks that even the twins spit out—but she patiently studied the recipes and practiced, practiced, practiced until she learned. Sebastian blames her for his sweet tooth because she used the twins as tasters.

Cassie was a senior in high school when things in the Smythe household fell apart. She spent the four months between her parents’ divorce and her departure for college sleeping on a friend’s couch and living out of a suitcase. She worried constantly about her eleven-year-old siblings and had them call her every day. She still feels guilty that she could not take them with her when she moved away for college.

Cassie attended Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Chicago, studying baking. She worked hard, and was noticed by her professors for her willingness to try new things. She was especially good at cakes and cupcakes, and her love of drawing made her an excellent decorator. She took classes during the day, working nights and weekends waiting tables.

When the twins were thirteen and things really hit the fan back in Ohio, something changed in Cassie. She had always been a gentle and passive person, but when she heard that her beloved little brother was in danger, something snapped. She packed an overnight bag, called in sick to her classes and drove a friend’s car back to Ohio. She spent the drive on the phone with her father, telling him in no uncertain terms that the twins were leaving and he was going to surrender custody to their mother immediately. The twins have no idea how she got him to agree—she won’t tell—but there was no arguing when she walked into the house, helped them pack their suitcases, and took them with her back to Chicago. They spent two weeks sneaking in and out of her dorm, sleeping in her bed while she slept on the floor. She refused to cry until after they got on the plane to Paris. She had to sit in the parking lot for two hours before she was able to pull herself together enough to drive.

When Cassie graduated the two-year program a month later, she went into business with several friends, setting up a bakery in Ohio. They owed an unspeakable amount of favors (and bank loans), and no one got more than an hour of sleep a night for the first two years, but she loved (almost) every second of it. She handled cakes, two friends handled bread and cookies, and the fourth ran the business end. (Try as she might, Cassie has no head for numbers.)

When she was twenty-three, Cassie found out she was pregnant. The first ones to find out were Sebastian and Sophie, who she phoned long-distance, giggling and dancing around her apartment’s tiny kitchen. Cassie had looked forward to being a mother since she was a little girl, and her siblings were incredibly happy for her. They flew back to Ohio when Katie was born and got to hold her when she was only a few hours old. When the twins moved back to Ohio, they spent a lot of time in Cassie’s apartment, taking turns caring for the baby. Katie was one of the very few things that could make Sophie smile. Over the next two years, the two of them became Cassie’s primary babysitter. It also allows Cassie to keep a close eye on her siblings, who she still worries about constantly.

The three Smythe siblings have a complicated history, and their current relationship is, without a doubt, colored by the influences of their family. However, they have always tried to channel their pasts in the most positive way possible, by caring for and supporting each other. They have a policy of total honesty with each other, even when it hurts; they can call each other in times of crisis or just to say hello. The twins are still always willing to taste-test Cassie’s baked goods or babysit Katie, while Cassie is always glad to give advice, cheer them up, or make them their favorite cupcakes. She takes her role as ‘big sister’ very seriously.

 

**Sam Evans**

  *          I think it’s pretty obvious at this point that I have a lot of feelings about Sam Evans as a friend. I believe that under the goofball exterior is a kind heart. He cares about everybody he knows. Everyone is his friend.
  *          I really liked how he was portrayed in “Hold On To Sixteen.” Sam will do absolutely anything for his friends and family, whether that’s being there to listen, giving their slightly-unwelcome new boyfriends a chance, or giving Sebastian the second most frightening shovel talk out of all Blaine’s friends. (Tina wins the crown, because Tina is scary.)
  *          Sam doesn’t get the best grades, even though he tries harder than almost anyone. Few people have noticed that, outside of school, he has a deep love of literature. It may take him a little longer to get through a book, but he pores over and appreciates something beautifully written. One of his favorite books is One Hundred Years of Solitude. It took him four months.
  *          Dude is a goofball. Like, very nearly too ridiculous. He just loves to make people laugh. It’s one thing he knows he’s really good at, and it makes people around him happy, so it makes him happy. It helps that he’s felt embarrassed maybe twice in his entire life.



 


	26. Chapter 26

**240**

Jeff was bound and determined to get this batch of cookies right, so help him. The fact that he was splattered with flour and probably had chocolate chips in his hair was not going to stop him, dammit.

He was dancing around to the Ramones while the first tray of cookies baked. The oven door kept creaking open half an inch -- it was dented. Nick had kicked it closed half a million times over the last four years. He was pretty sure there was a shoe mark still on it.

He felt good. He’d been away in Chicago the previous weekend, and gone home the two before, but decided at the last minute to stay at Dalton this time around to spend some time with Nick. They’d spent Friday and Saturday night curled up in their dorm beds, which they’d pushed together so they had more space to cuddle (Nick made a joke about how sickening they were at every opportunity, which Jeff inevitably answered by tackling him into their blankets), watching movies and pointedly not talking about Jeff’s family situation.

It was an odd sort of stalemate, considering that the last time they’d kept secrets from each other was never. (The longstanding crush thing didn’t count. There were reasons.) He knew Nick was being respectful of his feelings, since he came back to Dalton Sunday evening exhausted and more than a little sad, and never volunteered any details about how things were at home. Nick just cuddled him all the closer and rolled him out of bed, sometimes literally, Monday morning.

His phone beeped on the counter, the blue light from its screen catching his eye. There was a smudge of cookie dough on it, which he tried to wipe away with his thumb. It made it worse, but he ignored that for the time being.

He was halfway through typing a response to Sebastian’s text (“No, I will NOT give you Cassie’s Red Velvet Cookie recipe, there isn’t  big enough bribe in the world”) when Nick knocked on the kitchen door.  
“Hey, nothing smells like smoke!”

Jeff looked up from his phone and stuck his tongue out. “That’s hilarious.”

Nick smiled so big it wrinkled the bridge of his nose and reached to brush some flour from Jeff’s hair. “What are you making?”

“Chocolate chip cookies. Even I can admit my last try was ambitious. I figure these are pretty difficult to screw up.”

“Good plan. So, I have to ask. Are you ever going to tell me how your Juilliard audition went? I mean, other than that you killed it, obviously.”

Jeff grinned and wrapped his arms around Nick’s waist, hoisting him up onto the counter so he could kiss the tip of his nose. “Obviously. I was practically offered admission on the spot. They offered to name a building after me.”

Nick laughed as he wrapped his arms lazily around Jeff’s neck. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. I guess I’ll need to get a suit for the dedication ceremony. But, seriously, how do you feel?”

“I had it in the _bag_. Sophie and me both. We’re going to rule New York City by this time next year. They actually complimented me during the ballet section of the day. _I know_ , right? Who would ever have thought. But, that’s not what this is about.” He playfully smacked both of Nick’s hips with his open palms. “This is about you.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“You being the best boyfriend ever. Duh. I made dinner.”

“Cookies don’t count as dinner, Jeff.”

“You lack imagination.”

 

~~~~

 

**241**

“So I have to ask.”

Sebastian’s ears perked up when he heard Dave speak for the first time in several hours. They were both supposed to be studying for an upcoming history test, but Sebastian had given up half an hour in with a declaration that tests were for chumps and dug out his new copy of Looking for Alaska.

"What exactly is your plan, here? Either you're secretly a decent person or you're playing the longest of long cons. And let's be real, Sebastian, you're a sneaky bastard but you're not that good."  
Sebastian snickered without looking up from his book, then rearranged his face into a perfect deadpan. "You caught me. I've been planning world domination all along."  
"I knew it. Your evenings moonlighting as a supervillain haven't gone unnoticed."  
Sebastian tsked, but Dave could see the smile tugging irresistibly at the corner of his mouth. "And here I thought I was being discrete. Guess my weekend bank robbing plans'll have to be put on hold."  
"And here I was looking forward to seeing you in a cape."  
"No cape. Capes are for suckers." There was a long, contemplative pause as Sebastian fought against a smile. "Now, tights on the other hand..."  
Dave snorted and Sebastian grinned at him.   
"But you were about to ask a serious question."  
"Any opportunity to talk about your ass in tights. But yeah. What's your angle in all this?"  
Sebastian finally closed his book, crossing his arms over his chest. He was trying to look serious, but he'd been running his hands through his hair and it was all sticking up on one side. "My angle in all what?"  
Dave waved a hand in a gesture meant to encompass ‘everything, dumbass.’ "Everything. Being all, you know, nice and stuff. Giving Trent and me amazing solos -- which I'm grateful for, really -- everything you've been doing for Jeff, going on actual honest to god _dates_ with Blaine."  
"The stuff with Jeff really isn't that big a deal, is it?" Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed. "Was I really that shitty of a person before?"  
Dave made a noise that translated roughly to "...wellllllll...."  
"Okay, point taken. And look, if you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it. But yeah, I'm trying this new thing where I try to be decent to people. It's a stretch, I know, but I want to do better. I hurt... a _lot_ of people, including people who, despite all reason, love me. I wanna be the guy who deserves them."  
There was a long, heavy pause between them, which Dave broke by gracelessly snorting. "That's fuckin' profound, dude."  
Sebastian just laughed, and they were back on safe, familiar ground that didn't involve _feelings_. "I know, I should write that shit down. But for what it's worth, I didn't get you anything you didn't deserve."  
Dave rolled his eyes. "Are you getting sentimental on me?"  
Sebastian cracked a lopsided smile. "God forbid."  
"So when were you going to tell us about you and Blaine?"  
"'Never' sounds like a good option. Would you have believed me if I'd just up and told you?"  
"Nope."  
"Smart guy."

 

~~~~

 

**242**

Trent barely had time to undo the deadbolt before his doorway was full of Sebastian Smythe. The fact that this was the start of several fantasies was far from the point.  
They stared at each other for a long, awkward minute before Trent raised a "come on, then" eyebrow at him. "Help you with something?"  
Sebastian actually squared his shoulders. Oh, this was gonna be good. "I wanted to talk to you about something."  
When he realized no explanation was forthcoming, Trent made a frustrated noise. "And that thing would be what? Don't get me wrong, you're adorable when you're nervous, and yes I can tell, but I do occasionally have things to do."  
"Are you going to insist on making this more difficult than it already is?"  
Trent relaxed into his position. "Depends how much I can make you squirm."  
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You're the worst. Okay, look, there are a couple things I should have said to you a while ago, but I was too busy being an ass. The first is thank you for everything you've done for my sister. When we first moved here you were the best possible thing that could have happened to her, and I owe you more than I can ever repay. But the very least I can offer is the second thing I have to say, which is that I'm sorry. You were good to her and you tried to be good to me, and I responded by being an ass. And I know we've hashed this out and you got your _absolutely fucking ridiculous_ revenge, but I never actually said it. I'm sorry I was so awful."  
Trent was so stunned that it took him a few seconds to realize his mouth was actually hanging open. "Wait. Wait wait wait. Are you apologizing? Is that really what you're doing?"  
"I... yes? I think so. I'm not particularly good at this."  
"That's... Sebastian, that is the biggest understatement of the goddamn year. I need a second to process this."  
He probably shouldn't have shut the door in Sebastian's face. Looking back, that was rude. By the time he opened it again, Sebastian was slinking down the hall, hands in his pockets.  
"Get back here, you idiot."  
Sebastian opened his mouth to say something but Trent shut him up by doing something he never predicted would happen. He hugged him. Sebastian went rigid for a split second, then sank into it with a chuckle, patting him on the back.  
Trent pulled back after a minute. "Has anyone ever told you that you suck at everything related to emotions?"  
"Many people, yes. I keep my therapist in business single handedly."  
"I don't actually doubt that. Okay, in the interest of not embarrassing you further, I accept your apology. Thank you for being big enough to come over here to offer it. And I know you don't do nice, so we can just pretend I didn't say this, but I'm happy to be here for you as well as your sister. Okay?"  
"Okay." Sebastian's smile was tense and a little sad. It was the most vulnerable Trent had seen him look. "Thanks, Trent."  
"Anytime, jackass." He waited until Sebastian was most of the way down the hall, because never let it be said he didn't have a perfect grasp of the dramatic. "Tell Blaine I say hi!"  
Sebastian stopped, shoulders dropping and head tilting back resignedly. "Oh, Christ, does everyone know?"  
"Only those of us with eyes, sweetheart."

 

~~~~

 

**243**

**Sebastian:** Before you say anything, yes, I am aware it’s Valentine’s Day.

 **Sebastian:** And no, I am NOT going to do anything.

 **Blaine:** Don’t worry about it, I didn’t expect you to. Not your style

 **Sebastian:** So far beyond not my style

 **Sebastian:** I just didn’t want you to expect things

 **Blaine:** Sebastian, I have known you for, like, a minute

 **Blaine:** I am well aware that romance is not your forte.

 **Blaine:** In fact one might even say you suck at it.

 **Sebastian:** Hey now

 **Sebastian:** That’s not exactly fair

 **Sebastian:** I can totally do boyfriend stuff

 **Blaine:** Wait

 **Sebastian:** Ignore that

 **Blaine:** Did you just say boyfriend

 **Blaine:** YOU JUST SAID BOYFRIEND

 **Sebastian:** No I didn’t

 **Blaine:** YOU SO DID

 **Sebastian:** God dammit why does this keep happening

 

~~~~

 

**244**

He was alone. It was Valentine’s Day, and he was alone.

If Sebastian were in any way inclined to be romantic, he would have been disappointed, so it was a good thing that he was the least romantic person on the face of the earth.

(He kept telling himself that. Of course, he was also thinking about buying the biggest bouquet of red roses he could locate and driving to Blaine’s house to surprise him. So his own brain was sending him mixed signals.)

He had seen Sophie off on a date with Wes earlier in the evening, sitting on her bed reading a book while she filed through her entire closet to pick out a good dress. (She went with a forest green sweater dress that set off the red in her hair.) Then he’d settled in the armchair in his bedroom with a book and a cup of coffee, content to take some time off after the hectic few weeks he’d just gotten through.

So when his phone rang and no name popped up on the screen, he was surprised.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Sebastian.”

He recognized that voice. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Hi, Tina. Um, before we start, I’m just gonna say that I’m sorry for the really nasty stuff I said to you and about you last year. I was an asshole. I’m trying to no longer be an asshole now. Mixed results thus far. But. Sorry.”

There was a long pause, and when Tina spoke again, he could hear the surprise in her voice. “Um. Thanks? I accept your apology. But I want to talk about Blaine.”

That got his full attention. He even sat a little more upright despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. “What about him? Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine, we’re about to go out to dinner. He and I are totally gonna get married, just so you know. But I’m sure you know that I’m aware you and him are dating.”

“Yeah, he told me. Did you really threaten to stuff him in a locker?”

“Yup.” She sounded almost proud. “And I’m calling to say that you better watch your back. If you revert to your asshole ways, or hurt him _at all_ , believe me, Sebastian, I will _end you._ No matter where you run to, I will find you, and I will _end you_.”

He felt himself grinning. They may not be friends, but he respected the confidence she projected through the phone. “Yeah, you’re not the first one who’s told me that. I have to say I’m glad Blaine has such devoted friends.”

“That we are. So, do we understand each other?”

“Don’t hurt Blaine or you’ll kill me.”

“Exactly. Good talk. Enjoy your Valentine’s day while I go on a date with your boyfriend.”

Sebastian laughed. “Be gentle with him.”

“Oh, honey. Gentle is not a word I’d use.”

Sebastian was still grinning as he hung up and went back to his book. He actually kinda liked her. Having her approval – and he knew that giving a shovel talk was how she gave her approval, hidden behind a level of snark that rivaled him on his best days – would be a hell of a thing if he was lucky enough to stick with Blaine.

He read a few more pages before an idea struck him and he picked up his phone.

 **Sebastian:** Your girlfriend is a fierce, terrifying, wonderful woman. I think I like her.

 **Sebastian:** Call me when you get a chance. Happy Valentine’s Day.

~~~~

 

**245**

**Blaine:** Hey, I got your message last night

 **Blaine:** I totally meant to respond but I kinda passed out at Tina’s house

 **Blaine:** So yeah, I didn’t. Sorry. Everything ok?

 **Sebastian:** Hey, yeah, no problem

 **Sebastian:** Why is it that whenever I act the least bit serious people think something’s wrong?

 **Sebastian:** Besides the obvious, of course.

 **Sebastian:** On second thought, that was a really stupid question, wasn’t it?

 **Blaine:** Well

 **Sebastian:** Never mind.

 **Blaine:** So what’s up?

 **Sebastian:** I just

 **Blaine:** Yeah? Words, Sebastian. Still not psychic

 **Sebastian:** Shut up

 **Blaine:** No :p

 **Sebastian:** I have to talk about FEELINGS for a second

 **Blaine:** Hang on I’m gonna sit down

 **Sebastian:** You’re the wooooooooooorst

 **Sebastian:** Why does everyone want to make me squirm??

 **Blaine:** Revenge?

 **Sebastian:** Ugggggh. Ok. Brace yourself.

 **Blaine:** Bracing myself.

 **Sebastian:** I realized (way too late in the game, I know, I know)

 **Sebastian:** That I secretly way down deep wanted to be with you on Valentine’s day

 **Sebastian:** Despite you know absolutely everything I have ever said

 **Sebastian:** And more than that I want to be the kinda guy who would do Valentine’s day stuff

 **Sebastian:** I want to do it for you

 **Sebastian:** Because. You know.

 **Sebastian:** This is the part where you say something

 **Blaine:** Sorry. Stunned.

 **Sebastian:** Oh my god I know I have FEELINGS

 **Blaine:** I feel like I should have something profound to say but my brain sorta stopped working for a second

 **Blaine:** We should have this discussion in person

 **Sebastian:** I feel like you say that to me a lot

 **Blaine:** Probably because you have a tendency to avoid being serious

 **Sebastian:** You’re probably right. When can I see you?

 **Blaine:** Ugh not until later this week

 **Sebastian:** :(

 **Blaine:** I’m sorry the next few days are super crazy

 **Blaine:** I can’t skip any of it

 **Sebastian:** Are you sure I can’t tempt you?

 **Blaine:** I have teeeeeeeeeeeests

 **Sebastian:** Huh

 **Sebastian:** I probably have some of those too

 **Blaine:** Maybe Thursday?

 **Sebastian:** We’re skipping rehearsal that day so that works

 **Blaine:** Ok. I gotta run, Tina is yelling at me about something

 **Sebastian:** Tell her I love her

 **Blaine:** I will not. Talk to you soon

 

~~~~

 

**246**

Sebastian didn’t usually go home in the middle of the week – he preferred the Dalton dorms to the vast, empty house any day – but this was an extenuating circumstance. He needed his sister.

It was the feelings that were the problem. Specifically, their very existence. He needed advice, and there was no one in the world who knew him better, or was more enthusiastic about calling him on his bullshit, than Sophie.

He texted her midday to ask what her plans were, getting only indifferent ramblings about math homework and an overdue assignment for her art class in response. “But you’re staying home? I really need to talk to you about something,” he insisted. When she immediately asked what was wrong ( _Oh for god’s sake, I can be serious sometimes!_ ) he realized the only thing for it was to tell the truth.

“Feelings. Feelings are what’s wrong.” (He could practically hear her laughing at him via text message.)

He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, opting to shed the tie and blazer in the car after his last class, cranking the heat up against the late-February cold snap. He sang along to Tom Waits as he drove, carefully avoiding the few patches of ice that were starting to bloom.

He threw his bag down as soon as he got in the door. The first floor was silent, so he headed right up the stairs to Sophie’s room.

Her door was partially open – she still never locked it, and tended to keep it open when she knew he would be around – and she was curled up on her bed, nose buried in one of the books he’d given her for Christmas. She looked up when he knocked on the door frame and smiled, opening her arms like she was still a little kid asking for a hug.

He flopped down on the bed next to her, pressing his face into her sweatpants-clad hip with a groan. She giggled and fidgeted when it tickled her, swatting at his head gently with her book. “Alright, spill. What kind of stupidity are you up to now?”

“Sophiiiiiiie,” he groaned again, putting as much whine as possible into his voice, because if he couldn’t ham it up here, there was something profoundly wrong with their relationship. “Sophie, I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, god, what happened?” She pushed at his shoulder. “Seb, what’s the matter?”

He rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into her pillow as he waved a hand at her, as if brushing away the worry in her voice. “I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

She heaved a put-upon sigh. “You totally did, don’t even try to lie to me. What is it? Tell me now or so help me I’ll roll you onto the floor.”

He turned so he looked up at her with one eye. “It’s a Blaine problem. Not like that, Sophie, have _some_ faith in me.”

He watched the realization sink in. She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, no, are you gonna make me talk about _feelings_?”

He laughed. “Good god, we’re emotionally stunted, aren’t we?”

She huffed, but there was a giggle in it. “You just realized that now?”

“Stop making fun of me. Seriously. Stop it. I need advice.”

“Ugh, fine. Sit up like a big boy and I’m all ears.”

He made a face at her and hauled himself up so he sat next to her. Though the bed was far more than big enough to accommodate their skinny frames they sat in the middle, snuggling in together shoulder to knee. When he was finally comfortable, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“So I think I might be in love with Blaine.”

It was hilarious, watching the split-second flashes of emotion across his sister’s face, each of which he could read like a book. She opened her mouth prepared to say something sarcastic, then choked on it in surprise, tried to ask a question out of confusion, and flicked a suspicious glance to see if he was kidding before she settled back, eyebrows furrowing as it sank in. “Did you seriously just realize this now? I’ve been telling you that for _months_.”

“Well, I think that’s what this feeling is. Not that I have a lot of experience, but when I realized I wanted to buy a giant bunch of roses and chocolates and drive over to his house on Valentine’s day, that was a hint.”

She giggled. “He’d have loved that.”

“I _know_ , that’s why I wanted to do it. It’s the smile, Soph, I’ll do anything for it. I’m whipped.”

She stuck her tongue out at the last part. “You’re not whipped. Saying you’re ‘whipped’ is a harmful concept that denies”—

“Denies men emotion out of misguided and outdated notions of masculinity, see, I have been reading those feminist theory books you keep lending me, not the point. I was trying to make a joke. I’ve got it _bad_ , Soph. I want to buy him gifts on Valentine’s day. I want to sleep with him and watch movies together and _cuddle_. I want to be _friends_ with _his friends_ , Sophie.”

“Well shit, that _is_ bad.”

He tilted his head back so it thumped on the headboard. “I knoooooooooow.”

“Does he know any of this?”

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Sebastian.” She pushed his shoulder. “ _You better not have told me before you told him._ ”

He flinched. “Of course not. That would be stupid.” It sounded as unconvincing as it was untrue.

“So you’re, what, just going to continue keeping this a secret? Have you tried telling him? You better have tried to tell him.”

“I’m gonna see him later this week.” He couldn’t even pretend to feel confident enough to answer the question.

“…And are you gonna tell him then?” she prompted.

“Maybe?”

She sighed and smacked his shoulder. “You really should.”

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Yeah, I know, I should be more open about my feelings and actually face them instead of just deflecting with humor all the time.”

“Or, you know, just have a conversation like a grownup.”

He slumped back against the headboard and they exchanged matching wry smiles. He let the silent, peaceful moment stretch out, enjoying the security and comfort of being together.

“Since when are we so mature and responsible?”

She laughed. “God help the world if _we’re_ considered mature.”

 

~~~~

 

**247**

Sebastian skipped his run on Thursday, snagging Jeff by the arm immediately after their last class let out. Bless Jeff for being able to roll with anything that came his way, especially Sebastian’s special brand of aggressive affection. He didn’t even bother to ask where they were going, just let himself be pulled.

“How’ve you been?” Sebastian asked, just quiet enough that only Jeff would hear him in the din of the hallway.

Jeff shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“Are you gonna punch me if I ask how things are at home?”

“I’m always tempted to punch you, Sebastian, so tread carefully.” He softened the remark with a little grin. “Things are okay. It’s weird and tense and exhausting, but okay.”

“You don’t have to say anything else, I still suck at being nice,” Sebastian responded, giving his friend an out before they veered into anything too uncomfortable. Jeff gave his arm a grateful squeeze, so they just kept walking.

“Alright,” Jeff began after they made a few turns down the hallways, the crowd of students thinning out as they went. “I have to ask where we’re going. Is this the part where you finally murder me? There’s a disturbing lack of witnesses.”

Sebastian snorted, which was not at all smooth but, really, Jeff had seen him do less dignified things. “I had an idea.”

“Not reassuring.”

“Shut it. A song idea for Nationals. I need your help.”

“Man, you must be desperate if you’re coming to me,” Jeff joked as he pushed open the rehearsal room doors.

“You were totally my last choice, don’t get your hopes up.”

Trent looked up from his place on the couch. His tie and blazer were off, collar open, feet up on the coffee table. He was surrounded by sheaves of papers and had an earbud in one ear and a pencil behind the other. “I was the first choice. Look at all the good it’s doing me,” he deadpanned, gesturing with some paper.

“How the hell did you get here before us?” Jeff asked as he sat down, taking a seat on the arm of the couch because it was the only spot not buried. “Your last class is on the other side of campus.”

“Which would be a problem if I went to that class today. I’ve been here since lunch.”

“I love you, Trent,” Sebastian called sarcastically from over by the piano as he gathered more papers.

“You’re an asshole,” Trent shouted back, then handed Jeff some of the paper. It was sheet music, pencil notes scribbled in every available space.

“What’s this?”

“My plan for Nationals,” Sebastian answered, looking over his shoulder. “It’s either going to be absurdly epic or a total disaster. Absolutely no room for middle ground.”

Jeff’s brow wrinkled in confusion as he read. “Is this the song I think it is?”

“Yup.” Trent popped the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Dear god.”

“I know.”

“This is _ridiculous_. It’s impossible.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Sebastian tapped Jeff lightly on the head with the papers he held. “We go to a school full of geniuses and lead an a capella group made up of such talented people that I occasionally have to check whether I’m living in a movie. We can totally do this.”

“I’m going to hate you by the time June rolls around, aren’t I?” Jeff asked. He had chills running up and down his spine.

“Took you long enough,” Trent grumped. “I already hate the bastard.”

 

~~~~

 

**248**

They’d been sitting across from each other at Sebastian’s kitchen table, silent, for at least five minutes.

Blaine was tempted to pinch him. Or climb into his lap and kiss him. Or yell at him. He wasn’t sure which he would end up doing, but so help him, if Sebastian didn’t explain why he’d asked Blaine to come over _soon_ , he was going to be _pissed_ and would probably do all three.

He’d finally decided to open his mouth when Sebastian finally spoke. “So. Um. I don’t know how these conversations usually go.” He drummed his fingers on the side of his coffee mug, glancing up to meet Blaine’s eyes. He looked so terrified it took a minute for Sebastian’s words to sink in, and when they did, Blaine felt his stomach drop.

“Is this the breakup conversation?”

Sebastian nearly jumped out of his seat, he sat up so straight. “What? Holy shit! No!” He waved his hands frantically. “That’s not what this is about at all.”

“Okay. But you look like you’re walking to the gallows, Sebastian. Can’t really blame me for fearing the worst.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… This is just weird for me, because I know what I’m thinking but god help me put it into words. I just… I’ve been thinking, you know, over the past month or so. Probably like the last two months, but. And I think I’m the only one who didn’t realize it.”

Blaine let the awkward pause drag out for a few beats, but if Sebastian didn’t continue, he was going to punch him. He was nearly shaking. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Realize what?”

Sebastian sighed, dropped his hands flat on the table, and looked Blaine in the eye. “I want to be with you. I want to stay in and watch movies and order terrible takeout. I want to bring you to dinner with my sisters. I want to know your family – you know, if they don’t kill me. I want to be friends with your friends.”

Blaine realized his mouth had dropped open at some point, but the last part snapped him back to reality. “You’re _really_ serious.”

“Completely.” Sebastian looked scared and vulnerable, like the slightest thing would send him bolting and crying into the other room.

“Wow.” Blaine ran a hand over his face, desperate for a second to process this. “That’s… I never expected to hear that. From you. I mean,” he added hastily, because the hurt look on Sebastian’s face was terrible and tugged guilt into his heart, “I never expected you would be the one to… To put into words what I’ve been feeling for the last couple months.”

Sebastian stared at him in disbelief. “You mean…”

“I mean I feel exactly the same way.”

“Oh.” Sebastian’s eyes were wide.

“Yeah. So. Are you asking me to”—

“I’m asking if you’ll let me be your boyfriend,” Sebastian blurted out in a rush, like if he didn’t say it _right then_ the moment would escape. “I want to. I’ve wanted to ask you for a while. I was just too scared to do it before now. But I didn’t want to waste any more time than I already have.”

“Wow. Well, okay. Yes. Yes, that’s what I want.”

If it were possible for Sebastian’s eyes to go any wider, they did at that moment. “Wait, did you just say yes?” The stunned expression changed, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “Really?”

Blaine smiled back, and only managed to say “really” back before Sebastian jumped up from the table and swept him into the sort of kiss he thought only existed in movies.

 

~~~~

 

**249**

“Hey, Sam? Can I talk to you about something?”

Sam had his head buried in his English assignment (they’d been given selections from The Fountainhead, which had to be a sick joke on the part of the school board, and Sam had spent thirty minutes ranting about it the day before). His brows were wrinkled and his nose scrunched in distaste, but he smoothed them out quickly. “Oh thank god, I was thinking no one would ever rescue me. What’s up?”

“Do you have time? I can wait. It’s gonna take a while.”

Sam sat silently for a long moment, scrutinizing Blaine’s face. “Let’s go get Tina.”

“Good idea.”

Sam threw his books in his bag and slung his arm around Blaine’s shoulder as they walked down the halls. Fridays, Tina spent her lunch break getting extra time in with her American Sign Language teacher. She had sent out no less than ten college applications with the hope of getting into a speech therapy program, and she never passed up an opportunity to practice.

They waited patiently outside the classroom until she emerged, Sam rattling through impressions to make Blaine laugh. Tina looked delighted to see them, hugging each of them ferociously in turn. "Hello, boys. Are you here to escort me to math?" she teased as she slipped between them and linked their arms.   
"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a second?"  
Tina gave him a worried look, but it only lasted a second. "For you, boys, I have all the time in the world. I hate math, anyway."  
They set up camp in the back corner of the library, evicting a freshman who grumbled for a second but melted under Tina's "what are you gonna do about it?" glare.  
"So, Blaine, what's up?" She folded her hands on the table and leaned on her elbows. "Is it gossip? Please tell me it's gossip."  
Blaine considered that for a moment. He was about to start a hell of a lot of gossip, that was for sure. "Not.... as such, no. Um, it's actually a good thing?"  
"You and Sebastian finally made it official, huh?" Her deadpan tone gave him a start.  
"Uh. Yeah, how did you know?"  
"I'm psychic."  
"She is," Sam agreed, equally deadpan.  
"Oh. Well, I guess that saves me the trouble of explaining. Um, and you're okay with it?"  
Sam and Tina shrugged simultaneously.  
"We did kind of already know," Tina said.  
"We did," Sam agreed again.  
"And you did tell us that he's good to you and you're happy, and Sam if you repeat me one more time I will smack you. So, Blaine, I'm happy for you."  
"Me too," Sam added, with a glance at Tina in case he had to dodge a smack.  
"Wow. Um, thanks, you guys. That means a lot."  
Tina smiled and squeezed his hands while Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "So now the real issue is how you're going to break it to the rest of the New Directions."  
There she was again with the sneak attack. Blaine sank down to rest his head on the table. "Ohhhhh god, I hadn't even thought about that."  
She patted his hand comfortingly. "That's why we're here. If it helps, I totally have a plan."  
"It's a good plan," Sam added, the laughter clear in his voice.  
"We should get the Warblers and the New Directions together. Ease him in as part of the group, so everyone gets used to him being around. You know, as a guy who isn't an asshole. Then it won't be such a huge leap."  
Blaine lifted his forehead up off the table so he could look up at her. "You've put a lot of thought into this."  
"I need to think of _something_ during English."  
"Are you sure you don't have a future in wedding planning? Or maybe as a terrifying international spy?" Sam teased, poking her shoulder.   
"I would be an awesome spy, hush."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains nightmares, descriptions of domestic violence, panic attacks, and underage drinking.

**250**

It took a week of planning and coordinating, and when the New Directions piled into a restaurant halfway between Dalton and McKinley for, as Sam insisted on calling it, “The Second Semi-Annual Warblers/New Directions Peace-Making Convention” (the Valentine’s day performance at Breadstix two years before had been the first, yes, Blaine, it totally counted), Blaine could only hope it would be worth it.

Trent swept him into a hug before he could so much as glance around the rest of the group, followed by a thump on the back from Dave. Jeff nearly rugby tackled him in his enthusiasm, but Dave snagged him around the waist before he could and held him back, laughing, until Jeff stopped struggling and agreed that he would just give him a hug. _Gently_. He did, followed by Nick, who was wearing the half adoring/half bemused expression he always seemed to have around Jeff, then buzzed by to go talk to Artie.

Sebastian passed by with a quick clasp on the shoulder and a wink that was not in any way discreet, but Blaine knew better than to expect anything different. He rolled his eyes and gave Sebastian a quick tap on the elbow, a yes, I know, talk later.

He took a deep, steadying breath. Well, here goes nothing.

Thirty minutes in, Blaine was finally able to stop worrying that it was going to devolve into fist fights and got comfy in a booth. He sat back against the side, putting his feet up and taking a second to appreciate his good work. His friends – Dalton and McKinley alike – were mingling throughout their side of the restaurant. Tina had been swept into a circle with Nick, Jeff, and Trent. Dave and Sam had snagged a booth and were sitting across from each other, heads tilted close to talk over the noise. The freshman from both groups had formed a tight knot and Blaine could only imagine the war stories they were trading.

The only person who wasn’t deep in conversation was Kieran. The little freshman was standing just off to the side of Blaine’s booth, smiling but not participating. He remembered how shy the kid always seemed in rehearsal, and remembered feeling the same way when he’d transferred.

He scooted forward to the end of the booth. “Kieran?”

The kid looked surprised for a second, then ducked his head as he smiled. “Hey. Thanks for getting all this together, this is cool.”

“Yeah, no problem. Everything alright? Sit down.”

Kieran blushed but slid into the seat across from him. When he ran his hand through his hair and glanced up, Blaine was struck by how impossibly young he looked, despite the fact that less than three years separated the two of them.

“How are you? How are things going at Dalton?”

“It’s actually really good.” He sat up a little straighter. “Everyone’s really nice. Especially the Warblers. You know they talk about you all the time? I was worried about that, a little, like how the hell could I ever measure up, but they’re really supportive. Even with stuff other than singing, like Trent is helping me with my music all the time.”

“Do you play an instrument?”

“Yeah, the cello. Since I was five.”

“That’s amazing!”

“It’s fun. Trent and I play a lot of stuff together. He’s really good at classical stuff.”

“I heard my name being spoken.” Trent grinned as he slid into the booth next to Kieran. “Hey, kid.”

“Hi Trent.”

“Were you talking about how this kid plays cello?” He poked Kieran in the shoulder. “Let me tell you, Blaine, he’s _amazing_. The first time he played I actually sat down with my mouth open and couldn’t even talk for five minutes.”

Blaine laughed. “I know how difficult that is.”

“Oh my god. Blaine, you have no idea.”

Kieran was blushing so deeply he looked like he might crawl under the table in embarrassment. “It’s really fun,” he managed, a little squeak in his voice.

Blaine was about to say something when a hand dropped onto his shoulder and he was looking up at Sebastian. “I hope you’re being nice to my pet freshman.” He reached down to swat at Blaine’s hip. “Scoot.”

Blaine stuck his tongue out but moved over. “Having fun?”

“This is the lamest party in the history of lame parties. I can’t believe I’m here, you’re all the worst, I hate you so much.”

Blaine punched him in the shoulder playfully. “Stop it. You’re loving this.”

“Loving is an overstatement, but this is fun. I think your girlfriend is going to adopt Nick and Jeff, by the way. I demand joint custody on weekends.”

“Hell no, I’m keeping them. But we were just talking about Kieran.”

“Were we now. One of my favorite topics lately. You know he plays the cello?”

Kieran was edging closer and closer to crawling under the table, but Trent slung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

“He was just telling me.”

“Did he tell you he composes, too? Blaine, I feel like I go to school with _Mozart._ It’s really cool.”

Blaine was surprised, and not just at Kieran’s apparently hidden talent. Sebastian was going out of his way to be nice to the shy, awkward kid. It was a complete turn-around from only a year before.

The kid in question looked ready to die from embarrassment, but was smiling from ear to ear all the same. Blaine smiled back. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

“That would be cool.”

Trent clapped excitedly. “You should all come to Dalton! We could get everyone together! Don’t a bunch of your friends play instruments?”

“They do, but aren’t we competing against each other? Again?”

Trent waved his hand dismissively. “Not until June.”

Sebastian was about to jump into the conversation (either for or against it, Blaine had no idea) when a shadow leaned over the table and everyone was looking up at Sam and Tina.

Tina had her best intimidation face on. Blaine had been on the receiving end of it many times and it never looked any less scary. “Hi. Sebastian, can we borrow you for a second?”

He almost missed how Sebastian’s eyes went wide and his shoulders tensed a fraction. “Uh. Yeah, sure. See you guys later, be nice to poor Kieran, okay?”

As Sebastian slid easily out of the booth and followed Sam and Tina across the shop, Trent gave Blaine his biggest ‘cat who caught the canary’ grin. “Ohhh shit. This is gonna be good.”

 

~~~~

 

**251**

“Is this the point where you kill me? If it is, I feel obligated to point out the number of witnesses.”

Across the table, Tina waved a hand dismissively at the room. “You of all people should realize that anyone can be bought off, blackmailed, or sweet talked.”

“Good god, you are actually kind of terrifying.”

Sam grinned. “I know, she scares me too. But we didn’t really pull you over here to scare you.”

“Yes we did,” Tina interrupted.

“Okay, ten percent of this is to scare you. But besides scaring the bejeesus out of you, we did want to have a serious conversation. You are, in fact, dating our best friend.”

Sebastian nodded, but mentally he was sitting back and preparing himself to enjoy the show. They were clearly acting out a planned scenario, and far be it from him to ruin it. Still, Tina’s death glare packed a punch.

“We want to make sure that you’re going to do right by him. Because let me tell you, if I find out you aren’t, my threat still stands.”

“That’s fair.”

“But _before_ we get to the really serious threats,” Sam interjected, “we wanted to give you a chance to tell your side of the story. Reassure us that you’re going to be good to Blaine. And therefore don’t need to be disappeared.”

Sebastian, expecting another round of highly-amusing-but-also-terrifying threats, was silent for a moment before he realized hey, my turn. “Oh. Okay, yeah. Um, well, like I said, Tina, when we talked a couple weeks ago, I am honestly trying. Really. The last year or so, I’ve been trying to get my shit together. I know I was a complete, unrepentant asshole before, did some bad things and hurt a lot of people who didn’t deserve it. I know that. And in case I forget, I have two sisters and several friends who are more than happy to remind me. But I’ve been trying to make up for it.”

“Which is why you got in touch with Blaine?” Tina asked, all suspicion.

“That was a complete accident via a mass text. Honestly, I would have been happy if he’d ever _spoken_ to me again after what I did. I’m just as surprised as you are that things have turned out this way.”

“I highly doubt that,” Sam muttered wryly, but there was no hostility in it and Sebastian knew he was winning them over.

“Again, fair point. Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me, either, so I don’t hold it against you at all. And we may never be friends, but I hope you’ll let me give it a shot.”

“And if you don’t?” There was an edge in Tina’s voice.

“I give you full permission to make me disappear.”

She smiled. He didn’t feel reassured. “Oh, we will.”

“But,” Sam interjected again, obviously relishing his role as Good Cop, “we won’t have to. From what Blaine has told me and what I’ve seen, you’ve really turned it around. So, no, we’re not friends now, but as long as Blaine is happy… Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I’d be willing to give you a shot.”

Sebastian grinned. “Thanks. Now I’m gonna run away before you change your mind.”

 

~~~~

 

**251.5**

Sebastian was somehow managing to talk and kiss at the same time, and all Blaine could do was try to keep up.

As they were leaving, Sebastian had snagged him around the waist and pulled him around the corner of the restaurant. There hadn’t been a lot of time to think about it before he was swept into Sebastian’s cologne and the press of his hands around his waist.

“Your friends are ridiculous,” Sebastian murmured around kisses. “And scary. And I think they like me.”

Blaine chuckled. “They like you because they like me, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

 

~~~~

 

**252**

Blaine loved singing with Tina.

It wasn’t just that she had a beautiful voice, or that she chose songs that showed off both her range and her personality.

It was her presence. She radiated joy. He felt himself smiling just watching her. It helped that they were nailing a simply incredible rendition of "Falling Slowly" from "Once," sending goosebumps down his arms. It was almost impossible to feel nervous when he was swept up in her song the way he was. As she hit a crystal clear high note, his heart swelled for her. 

God, he loved that girl. Beyond the constant joking about their secret relationship (last week she'd texted him a picture of the most absurd wedding dress he'd ever seen), they were each other's number one fan and confidant. They were there for each other in glee rehearsals and late night, cry-and-eat-ice-cream phone calls. 

If they went to New York together, he was absolutely certain they would take over. Tina's no-nonsense, get stuff done or get out of my way attitude would have the city eating out of her hand before her first semester was over. She’d be his courage.

And if he was being honest with himself, he was terrified to go without her. A high school career spent jumping from school to school made yet another big change intimidating and overwhelming. It wouldn't just be a new school -- he could handle that -- it was an entirely new life in a new city where he would know only a small handful of people. He needed his girl as backup.

She'd said the same a few nights before, voice fuzzy with sleep somewhere around twelve thirty as she talked him down from pre-audition jitters. Of course, as they wrapped up their last rehearsal session, he was wound up all over again.

“How do you think I’ll do?” he asked to avoid requesting another pep talk.

She saw right through him. “Are you asking me to calm you down? Are you really asking me that right now? Seriously?”

Blaine groaned and rubbed his eyes. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“Blaine, if I hadn’t already messed up my voice today, I’d be telling you, _at length_ , how much of an idiot you’re being. You are going to be _fine_. I am going to be _fine_. You are going to be awesome, and crush this audition, and take New York by storm.” Tina shuffled her sheet music, squared off the pile with a quick, efficient tap, and slipped it into her messenger bag with a decisive swipe. “Now shut up, go home, drink some tea, and go the hell to bed.”

Blaine grinned despite himself. “Yes mom.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as she buttoned her coat. He followed suit and began gathering up his things. As he straightened up, her arms slid around his waist and she snuggled up against his back. “You’re going to be awesome. NYADA is going to offer you admission on the spot.”

“I don’t know about that. They might consider me if I can handle that last note.”

She thumped his shoulder good-naturedly with her fist. “Hush. You nailed it five times in a row tonight. They’ll bow before you.”

He turned so he could hook an arm around her as they headed out of the choir room. It was late – they’d stayed a lot longer than he expected – and the halls were dark and deserted. He reached for the light switch –

And paused.

Tina felt it and stopped with him, looking over her shoulder into the room. “You forget something?”

“No, I just…” He turned back so he was facing the room again. Something in his chest went tight, and for some reason he felt the prickle of tears. “I’m going to miss this place.”

She smiled, soft and sad. “Me too. It’s been such a great four years, coming to this room all the time.”

“Remember all those rehearsals for West Side Story?”

She grinned. “Remember Sugar’s audition?”

“Good god, how could I forget. Hey Big Spender has _never_ sounded the same since.”

Tina didn’t respond, and when he looked over her eyes were welling up.

“Oh, no no no no no, no crying,” he laughed as he wrapped his arms around her. “Happy memories.”

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes with her sleeves. “Sorry. I’m okay.” He leaned his cheek on top of her head and stood there with her for a few minutes until she looked up at him with a soft, sad smile. “I’m glad you were here with me.”

He kissed her hair. “Me too. C’mon, let’s go. We still have plenty of time in here. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

 

~~~~

 

**253**

**Blaine:** I’m going to die.

**Sebastian:** Okay, what? Also no, no you’re not.

**Blaine:** My audition for NYADA is tomorrow and I think I may actually die from nervousness

**Blaine:** Can that happen? Is that a thing?

**Sebastian:** It is not.

**Blaine:** How do you know?

**Sebastian:** Cause if it was gonna happen, I would have been struck dead before our first date.

**Blaine:** Whaaaaat

**Sebastian:** Yup. Blind panic. Wasn’t pretty.

**Blaine:** Liar

**Sebastian:** True story

**Blaine:** You’re a lying liar who lies and I am about to die of nerves

**Sebastian:** Okay, B, focus

**Sebastian:** Sit down.

**Blaine:** Ok

**Sebastian:** Deep breath in. Hold for two counts. Slow breath out.

**Blaine:** Ok

**Sebastian:** Repeat after me

**Sebastian:** I am awesome

**Blaine:** I am awesome

**Sebastian:** The audition committee is going to love me.

**Blaine:** The audition committee is going to love me.

**Sebastian:** I am going to show my audition no mercy.

**Blaine:** I am going to show my audition no mercy.

**Sebastian:** Better?

**Blaine:** Wow

**Blaine:** Actually, yeah

**Sebastian:** Good. Now leave me the hell alone, it’s stupid o’clock and I want to sleep

**Blaine:** :p

**Sebastian:** You’re going to kill it tomorrow.

**Blaine:** Thanks.

**Sebastian:** But seriously go the fuck to sleep

**Blaine:** Ugh fine goodnight

**Sebastian:** Goodnight B

**Sebastian:** Text me when you’re done tomorrow. You’ll be amazing.

 

~~~~

 

**254**

Blaine no longer felt like he was going to die, but if he made it through his audition without passing out, it would be an awesome day.

He kept himself distracted in the lobby texting everyone he knew. Even though almost everyone was busy, it helped him feel better just to say (or, you know, type) what he was thinking. Tina stopped responding a half hour ago, having probably turned off her phone from sheer annoyance.

So when the assistant came out into the lobby, peeked at her clipboard and called, “Blaine Anderson? You’re up,” he didn’t feel any better.

He tried not to stare at Carmen Tibideaux as he walked down the auditorium aisle and up onto the stage. Kurt described her in detail last year, and when he was the one standing up to be judged, she seemed about twenty times worse. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she breathed fire.

He took a place at center stage. Only a few lights were on. He may as well have been standing in a spotlight.  “Uh, hi. I’m Blaine Anderson. I’ll be singing ‘Where Do I Go’ from “Hair.””

That got him a raised eyebrow. Well. Here goes nothing. He gave a thumbs up to the sound guy, braced himself, and waited for the song to begin. The rest was a blur – a bright, hot, hands-shaking stressful blur. He didn’t even know how well he was singing, just that he was giving it everything he had in him, starting in the basement and throwing his voice right to the rafters. By the time the song ended he was completely and utterly out of breath, like he’d just run a mile double time. He just hoped he didn’t look as bad.

There was such a long silence from Mme. Tibideaux it actually hurt. Finally, she put down her pen, took off her reading glasses, and leveled her eyes on him. “You need to work on your breathing,” she announced, no nonsense. He nodded his agreement, because yeah, hello, gasping. “Do you dance?”

He shrugged, which was definitely not the right answer. “Some?”

“Well. You’ll need a _lot_ of breathing work, then.” She looked back down at her notepad, and Blaine felt his heart drop right into his feet. Oh, god, this is not good. It felt like an eternity before she looked back up with, “However. You have a strong voice, and quite a lot of stage presence for someone so young. You can learn the mechanics if you already have the talent.” Another long pause. “And you do have the talent. Thank you, Mister Anderson.”

Blood roaring in his ears, he was pretty sure he managed a “thank you” before stumbling offstage, up the aisle, and out into the blissful cool of the lobby. He dropped back into his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands to clear them. That had actually gone well. Like, _really_ well.

Holy shit.

 

~~~~

 

**255**

**Warning: Underage drinking**

“Surprise!” Tina shouted at the top of her lungs, yanking the front doorknob right out of Blaine’s hands and nearly knocking him off his feet. Blaine just let it all happen: in less than two minutes he had been divested of his coat, hat, and shoes, hugged by every member of the New Directions, and had an unnamed drink put in his hand.

Party time.

A drink and a half in (approximately an hour? He seemed to have misplaced his watch), Tina talked him into recounting, in detail, every second of his audition. They were mostly seated in a lopsided circle on the living room floor. Blaine was sprawled out, the couch propping him up. Sam had laughed so hard he gave up on being upright and lay down on the floor. Tina had helped Artie over to the couch and the two of them were leaning on each other in a drunk, happy cuddle pile. Everyone else was in various stages of inebriation, hilarity, and sleep.

Blaine didn't realize he'd drifted off mid-sentence until he felt Tina running her fingers through his hair. He hummed contentedly and leaned into her hand as she bent down to kiss the top of his head. Artie, laughing, grabbed him from the other side and kissed him too, which sent them into a flurry of giggles that only built when Blaine hauled himself up and dropped between them. They dropped their heads onto his shoulders as he settled in, snaking his arms between bodies and cushions so they could properly snuggle.

"Tina," he said after a moment.

"Blainey-kins?" she responded, sleepy and soft.

"Artie?"

"Yeah?" He sounded just as tired.

"I'm so happy right now. Just so, so happy."

Tina scooted in closer so his mouth was pressed against her hair and, if he was being honest, her shoulder had worked its way into his ribs. He could have moved, but the beer and the long day and the late hour had worked their way, warm and heavy, into his bones. And after weeks of worrying and stressing, the slow drift into sleep was the best thing he'd felt in a long while.

So of course his phone, traitorous little bastard that it was, decided to buzz in his shirt pocket. Tina jumped, then started giggling as he fumbled for it, slowed down by the beer enough that she got it first. He swiped at her hand, ineffectual as a kitten.

"It's from your boy toy," she teased. "I'm deleting it. You're marrying me, Blaine, don't you forget that."

"I could never forget that, Tina, oh truest and fairest light of my life."

On his other side, Artie snorted out a laugh. "Dibs on being best man. I'll start on my speech." He was interrupted by a yawn. "Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow."

Tina clicked a few times on Blaine's phone before returning it to his pocket with an affectionate little pat. "I sent him hugs and kisses for you," she informed him with the gravity brought on by alcohol. "Even though I love you more."

 

~~~~

 

**256**

Trent was angry.

Trent was angry to the point that he had been muttering a non-stop diatribe of profanities and threats against Sebastian’s person for, as far as Sebastian knew, the last two hours.

It was _hilarious_. Also slightly scary. But mostly hilarious.

Probably the only reason Trent hadn’t actually murdered him was that he walked into the rehearsal room holding a really large caramel latte and handed it over without a word. Trent accepted it as his due and returned to his sheet music, though the muttering started up again within a minute.

Sebastian waited until he knew Trent had finished his coffee before he approached – and even then, he stayed out of arm’s reach. Better safe than sorry. “So,” he began cautiously, “how’s it going?”

“You’re an asshole,” Trent informed him without looking up. “You may actually be a genius. But no doubt about it, you’re an asshole and I hate you.”

“I understood you might end up feeling that way when I asked you to do this,” Sebastian deadpanned good-naturedly.

“I pretty much feel the same.” Jeff chose that moment to enter the conversation, pulling his headphones away from his ears. He’d been lying flat on his back on the floor for over an hour, which was actually kind of normal behavior from him when faced with a daunting challenge. Still, the lack of Jeff’s special brand of controlled chaos was unnerving. “You’re either a goddamn genius or this is going to be the death of us all.”

“That too,” Trent agreed, still not looking up. “I’m having trouble with – fuck it, I’m having trouble with this whole insane idea, but this bridge is _killing_ me.” He pointed at the couch cushion next to him. “Sit.”

Sebastian obeyed like a well-trained puppy. (Blaine would have laughed.) “What’s wrong with it?”

“Besides the complexity, I’m not sure we have anyone who can even _hit_ those notes. But he real trouble is going to be– oh, _hell_ no.”

Trent’s focus shifted so abruptly that Sebastian had to look around for what had distracted him. What he found was Dave Karofsky, hand still on the doorknob, halfway in the room and looking stunned.

“You and that shirt get the fuck out of this room,” Trent continued, his voice so deadpan that Sebastian couldn’t actually tell if he was joking or not.

Dave looked just as wary as he looked down at his Boston Red Sox tee, but when he made the connection he grinned. “ _Hell_ no. This is Red Sox territory now, I’m taking over.”

“Blasphemy,” Trent declared, waving an authoritative hand even as he went back to his work on the sheet music. “I will not tolerate such talk.”

Dave chuckled as he came in and shut the door and, just to be annoying, pressed a dramatic kiss to Trent’s cheek as he passed by. Trent took a swat in his general direction, but didn’t bother to look so there was no heat behind it.

Sebastian tried not to laugh out loud, but it was difficult. “You two are disgusting, jeez, have some sympathy for poor, innocent Jeff.” (Jeff laughed sharply from his corner.) “Or at least me, come on, nobody wants to see that much _happiness_ here.”

“Dalton is not a happy place,” Jeff sarcastically yelled over the headphones he’d returned to his ears. Dave almost tripped over him.

“The hell is he doing?”

“He says it helps him focus,” Trent responded with a shrug. “I suggested it last year because it got him out of the goddamn way.”

Sebastian went to make another joke, but his phone buzzed in his pocket and distracted him. It was a text from Sophie, which was weird, because she was supposed to be in a ballet class.

“Im outside I need you come right now”

He took off at a run.

 

~~~~

 

**257**

**Warning: This section contains a deliberately vague mention of past relationship abuse (nothing graphic), as well as discussion of therapy.**

On a happier note, it does focus on a large group of friends doing their best to be loving and supportive.

 

Sophie stood just outside the side doors to the parking lot, huddled in her jacket. The tense set of her shoulders had Sebastian instantly on his guard. Instinctively, he reached out to hug her. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She buried her face in his shoulder and refused to look up at him, just shook her head. Alright, that wasn’t a good sign. Sebastian immediately began going through his mental “How Bad Is This?” checklist.

“It’s okay, baby girl, it’s okay. You did the right thing coming to find me. Can you tell me what happened?”

Her only response was a sniffle. “Not talking” was pretty high on the list of bad signs, and he fought not to tense up. That would be the last thing she needed.

He leaned back, gently cradling her face in his hands. She determinedly kept her eyes pointed at her feet. “Sophie, can you talk to me?”

Another sniffle, then finally, “yeah.” It was soft and choked with tears, but just hearing her voice was a relief. If she went non-verbal again, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it. The memory of her silence was still too painful.

“Okay, good, that’s good. Have you called your doctor yet?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want to call her, or do you want me to do it? Either way, you know we need to call.”

“I’ll do it.” She leaned her forehead against his shoulder again, muffling her voice even further. “Okay. As soon as we go home, we’ll call her.”

“I don’t wanna go home.” Her voice came out in a sudden rush, panic at the edges of it. “Not yet. I don’t wanna be alone.”

He immediately moved to comfort her, running his hands gently over her hair and making soft hushing noises because he knew it calmed her down. “You won’t be alone, baby girl. I’ll go with you, I promise. Do you want to stay here for a while? Would seeing the guys make this better?”

She leaned just far enough back to wipe her eyes. They were puffy and red—she had been crying for a while. Her cheeks were blotchy, too. “I’m a mess.”

He chuckled a little, smoothed some of her hair back from her face. “Bullshit. You’re the prettiest girl in the damn world. Wes is gonna fall in love with you all over again.”

She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, which was a great sign. “You’re a jackass.”

“I am many things, kid, but a liar is not one of them. Well, not _anymore_ ,” he clarified in response to her raised eyebrow. “Look, if you wanna go see the guys, you know none of them will say shit except that they love you. They won’t ask, and you don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to. So if you think it’ll make you feel better, you know they always want to see you.”

She considered for a moment, wiping her eyes again. Her lower lip still trembled some, but her breathing was evening out. Then she moved abruptly, like if she paused she would change her mind, and shoved a folded piece of paper at him.

He watched her face carefully as he took it from her. She didn’t meet his eyes, which told him everything he needed to know: he was holding whatever it was that caused her this much distress. And while Sophie was a sensitive person, always had been, the list of things that could upset her so badly was short and terrible.

He unfolded the paper. It was a letter. The name signed at the bottom made his blood boil, and it took a minute of deep, steady breathing to calm himself back down.

“I don’t know how he found me,” Sophie whispered, tears threatening to start again.

“I don’t know either, sweetheart.” He folded the letter back up. He had no interest in reading what that monster had to say.  That guy had lost any right to talk to Sophie two years ago. “Is it okay if I hold on to this?” he asked, because asking her permission—letting her keep her right to make this decision—was important. She nodded, and he folded it tightly and slipped it into his back pocket. “You don’t have to make a decision right now about what you want to do with this. I think it might be a good idea to talk to your doctor about it. But if you know what you want to do, you tell me any time, okay?”

She nodded, but he wanted to hear her voice. “Okay?” he repeated, something he rarely did because he was hesitant to push her.

“Okay.”

“Alright. Let’s go see the guys, huh?” She let him sling an arm around her shoulder and lead her back to the rehearsal room.

The rest of the Warblers had shown up for rehearsal while they were out, and when they swept in through the double doors, three reactions happened in only a matter of seconds: the Warblers saw Sophie and immediately began to welcome her. Then they saw her red eyes and hesitated. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they greeted her as if nothing were amiss. She accepted hugs from Dave, Jeff, and Nick, and Trent took her arm and led her to her usual seat of honor on a sofa. By the time she sat down, she was managing a weak, wobbly smile, and Sebastian felt immensely grateful to his friends.

They drew her into their conversation without missing a beat, Trent cheerfully bitching about the sheet music, Jeff popping one headphone in her ear so he could better describe what they were talking about. And though she didn’t say much, she listened actively and responded when directly spoken to, which were two of the things her therapist had told him to look for. It still felt like a hand was clenched around his heart, but it was a good sign.

Then he heard a song start from Jeff’s iPod, and his heartbeat made a panicked skip, because oh my god what could he be thinking?

Trent was the first to jump up and begin singing, “I remember when we broke up, the first time,” dancing around the floor with big, overdramatic gestures, grinning at Sophie and the assembled Warblers like it was Nationals.

When he finished his segment, he pointed at Dave, who, laughing, launched himself to his feet and began singing along. “Because like, we hadn’t seen each other in a month when you said you needed space.”  
“What?” Jeff yelled across the room to a chorus of laughter.

Nick took over after him, singing, “Then you come around again and say, baby, I miss you and I swear I’m gonna change, _trust me_ ,” with such an overdone batting of eyelashes, hands over his heart, that he made the line hysterically funny (instead of potentially panic-inducing, because goddamn was that line familiar).

And Sophie began to giggle. It burst out of her suddenly, like it startled her, and she put her hands over her mouth to muffle it. But when Wes jumped into the song, pulling Sophie to her feet, the smile broke across her face in earnest.

Every Warbler joined in with a joyful shout for the chorus, dancing along and singing Taylor Swift so loud that the chandeliers shook. And Sophie was right in the middle of it, singing the “never ever ever ever” like it could hold back the world and all its demons. For a second, the look on her face was so free that Sebastian was almost tempted to believe it could. When the song ended and everyone fell back into their seats, breathless with laughter, Sebastian knew that he loved those guys, that he was grateful to them in ways he would never be able to repay. With all of them on their side, there was a chance that he and Sophie would be okay.

They took her car as he drove her from Dalton, back to the vast mansion filled with nothing but echoes. She was silent until it was just the two of them behind a locked door, propped against the headboard of her bed. Then she cried like her heart had been broken all over again, and all he could do was hold her close and pray that his hands and his heart were big enough to keep her together.

 

~~~~

 

**258**

Trent hung back after the rest of the Warbler left. He didn’t really need to keep working on the arrangement, but Sebastian had given him a couple of good ideas (he knew that jackass had to be good for something) and he wanted to get them sorted out before he lost them. He took up his place at the piano, pencil behind one ear, headphone in the other.

The music was starting to come together in a promising way. As frustrating as it was—and this particular song had caused him a lot of grief—he really liked this moment: the brink of things falling into place, a shining moment of pure potential in which he could finally see something great emerging from the scribbles and eraser marks.

The headphone was in his ear closest to the door, so he sensed rather than heard someone come back into the room. He didn’t look up—everyone knew he was busy, and they hadn’t interrupted him yet, so it wasn’t an emergency.

Dave slid down next to him. He just _knew_ it was him, from the last lingering bit of his cologne and the warmth that radiated from his shoulders as it nudged his gently. He smiled to himself, let his hands start hitting the keys of the piano.

When Dave started playing the melody, halting and uncertain but clearly “Imagine,” Trent smiled even wider. A gentle hand plucked the headphone from his ear and they played together, working their way slowly through the song. As it faded away, Trent felt the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders for untold days loosen up. He leaned further into Dave’s space, so they pressed together hip to knee.

Dave turned and gently pressed a kiss just above his ear. Trent’s heart certainly didn’t flip about like it was made of butterflies. That would be silly.

He turned and kissed Dave’s mouth, both of them smiling into it. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself. Thought you might like to take a break.”

“That does sound like a really good idea.”

“Thought you might like it. So, my place? Popcorn and ‘The Walking Dead?’”

Trent chuckled. “You sure know a way to a guy’s heart.”

Dave shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a natural romantic. Sebastian told me he won’t be back until tomorrow, so you can stay as long as you like.”

Trent batted his eyelashes. “Dave Karofsky, are you implying you’ll try to take _advantage_ of me?”

Dave laughed. “I’m not implying anything, I’m saying this is an open invitation to get in my bed if you want to.”

“Hm.” Trent pretended to consider it. “I don’t know, I do have an _awful_ lot of work to do here…” Dave shoved his shoulder playfully and he laughed. “Okay, _fine_ , lead the way, good sir.”

Dave didn’t stand up, though. “Before we go. Um. So this happened.” Hesitantly, he pulled an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. It was crumpled at the corners, folded in half, but Trent recognized the seal on the return address.

“Holy shit, is that a letter from Seton Hall?”

Dave nodded, but his eyes looked frightened. “Yes it is.”

“I didn’t know you applied anywhere out of state.”

“This was the only one.” He tapped the enveloped against the piano keys. He handled it by the corners, delicately, like he was afraid of it.

“But you haven’t opened it yet.”

“Nope.”

“Do you want to open it?”

Dave shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know. I was thinking of saving it, you know, for that day you told me about when all the Warblers open their letters together. But that’s, like, another week or so away?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s your choice. You don’t have to wait.”

“I know that. But… I want to. It’s a Warbler thing. I like being a Warbler.”

Trent nodded, because he understood—my god, he understood. It wasn’t about being part of a glee club. The singing was, honestly, incidental. It was about Nick and Jeff and Sebastian and Beatz and Wes and Kieran and all the other Warblers. It was about inside jokes and long bus rides to competitions and late nights making pots of tea because everyone had been singing for hours. It was about dancing his ass off to Taylor Swift because Sophie was upset and it might make her feel better. It was about the way he felt when everyone sang the arrangement he’d helped create.

“Well, you can add it to the pile with mine. And by pile, I mean one. I’m not expecting the Juilliard letter until next week.”

“Awesome. Yeah, if you could hold on to it… It makes me nervous.”

“Consider it taken care of,” he said, plucking the letter from Dave’s hand and tucking it into his shirt pocket. “Now, you said something about ‘The Walking Dead?’”

 

~~~~

 

**259**

**Warning: This section contains nightmares, descriptions of domestic violence, and panic attacks.**

They really shouldn't have been happening anymore, but there was no reasoning with nightmares. They did what they damn well pleased.

Sebastian had thought he was over them, or at the very least that they weren't as severe. Two years of waking up once a week screaming was quite enough for one lifetime, thanks. He could live without it ever happening again. In fact he was rather enjoying not throwing himself out of bed in shrieking terror.

Sarcasm didn't seem to deter them, either, but he'd be damned if he didn't stop trying.

It was always a variation on the same awful memory, one that was stuck in his head no matter how many times he reluctantly discussed it with a parade of therapists. He remembered vividly the feeling of being a skinny, awkward thirteen year old and the way his arms and legs refused to respond, failing when he needed them most. He remembered the way his knee cracked on the floor when he was knocked over, the way his nails scraped on the wood when he tried to get up but there was no time to get any purchase before the swift kick that caught him just below the ribs. He remembered the sound he made as all the air went out of him. He remembered the taste of blood from his split lip.

But that wasn't nearly the worst part of the nightmare. Far more awful than the fresh echoes of pain, more crushing and terrifying than his father's deadly silence, was the memory of Sophie screaming.

She was on the other side of a locked door, grabbed by the shoulder and thrown out so she landed hard on her knees and elbows. She started screaming as soon as the lock slammed home and didn't stop until they'd been separated at the hospital, an eternal hour later. She pounded at the door, not even slowing as the skin of her knuckles split open and she broke three bones in one hand. She just kept screaming and screaming for him, and he could hear her voice but he knew in his bones that she wouldn't be able to help him. That was the worst.

So when a hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and shook him, he came up through the nightmare like a missile. He swung a fist in a wide, panicked arc that connected full force with another body.

"Jesus fuck," a voice yelled at him, and as his head cleared he realized the shape of the guy standing over him was all wrong. The shoulders were too broad, the chest too solid.

"Oh holy shit," Sebastian blurted around a heaving gasp for air, fighting off the remembered ache in his lungs. "Shit, Dave, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

Dave took a step back, hand rubbing the spot just below his collarbone where Sebastian's fist had connected. "Jesus Christ you hit hard. Fuck. Are you okay?"

Panic was still trilling through him, his heart racing, but he could see that he was in his dorm room. He was safe. It was quiet. "Fuck, I didn't think that would happen anymore. I'm sorry."

Dave shrugged it off, looking far more concerned about Sebastian than himself. "Dude, don't worry about me, I know you didn't do that on purpose. You were freaking the fuck out. I didn't want you to hurt yourself."

"God dammit," he huffed, bracing his hands in his sweat-soaked hair, still protecting his head. "I'm sorry you had to see that." He hauled himself out of bed and began looking for his shoes. No use trying to go back to sleep.

"Where are you going? It's stupid early."

Sebastian shrugged into a hoodie. "I dunno. I think I'll just go hang out in the lounge for a while. I'm not gonna be able to sleep."

"Well shit, I'm up too."

Sebastian felt awful. Waking up to a panicked roommate that hit you must have sucked. "I know, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet when I come back in," he apologized as he made a beeline for the door.

Dave grabbed his sweatshirt. "Dude, hang on." Reluctantly, Sebastian paused just inside the door. "I mean I always hated being alone after shit like that. Come on, let's go watch bad tv until you feel better."

Sebastian's heart rate began to slow just hearing the calm tone of his roommate's voice and he managed the smallest of grins, which was a hell of an accomplishment. As they left the room, Dave casually slung an arm around his shoulders, giving him a solid, reassuring squeeze. "How terrible do you think the infomercials are gonna be?"

Sebastian appreciated the casual change of subject. "At this hour? They're absolutely _awful_."

"Good."


	28. Chapter 28

**260**

**Blaine:** Hey, I haven’t heard anything from you in a couple days

 **Blaine:** Hope everything is alright. Get back in touch when you can.

 **Sebastian:** Jesus I am so freaking sorry

 **Sebastian:** I didn’t mean to drop off the face of the earth, I swear

 **Sebastian:** Sophie really needed me and I just lost track

 **Blaine:** Oh my god is she ok?

 **Sebastian:** Yeah she is fine

 **Sebastian:** I mean not really

 **Sebastian:** But like on an emergency scale of 1 to 10 it was like a 5

 **Sebastian:** So she will be ok

 **Blaine:** Okay, give her my love

 **Sebastian:** I will, thank you

 **Blaine:** Are you okay?

 **Sebastian:** I’m alright

 **Sebastian:** Stressed out and very, VERY worried about her, but ok.

 **Sebastian:** I was staying at the house until last night, one of her friends stayed over

 **Blaine:** Yikes, did you miss any school?

 **Sebastian:** Other than what I slept through?

 **Sebastian:** Because on top of everything else

 **Sebastian:** Being seriously freaked out by the whole situation has me awake most of the damn night

 **Sebastian:** I think I paced a hole in the carpet

 **Blaine:** Oh my god

 **Blaine:** Is there anything I can do?

 **Sebastian:** I could use to be hugged for, like, an hour

 **Sebastian:** But I’m a complete mess

 **Sebastian:** You really shouldn’t see this

 **Blaine:** May I remind you

 **Blaine:** You took care of me when I literally could not keep my nose from running all over the place?

 **Blaine:** I owe you one, and even if I didn’t, if I can help, I want to be there for you.

 **Blaine:** What are you doing tonight?

 **Sebastian:** Staring at my chem homework and attempting not to cry?

 **Sebastian:** That sounds about right.

 **Blaine:** Don’t go anywhere. I’ll bring some movies. Is Dave ok with me coming over?

 **Sebastian:** Dave loves your stupid face, I’m sure he’s cool with it but I’ll ask

 **Blaine:** Great. Gonna go get some stuff.

 **Blaine:** See you in 45 minutes.

 **Sebastian:** You are amazing and I do not deserve you.

 **Blaine:** That’s probably true.

 

~~~~

 

**261**

“Hey Dave?”  
“Hm? Sorry, headphones. Sup?”

“Is it okay if Blaine comes over for a while?”

“Yeah, sure. He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Oh, he just confirmed that if you’re not okay, he fully intends to bribe his way in with gummy bears.”

“I’ll put up a convincing front.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

 

 

“Hey, Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“If it happens that he asks about the last few days, and I maybe start crying like a deranged child…”

“Secret’s safe with me, dude.”

“Thanks.”

 

 

“Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t deserve that boy.”

“God, don’t I know it.”

 

~~~~

 

**262**

It took an hour for Blaine to make it all the way over the Dalton, which was just long enough for Sebastian to get mind-numbingly immersed in his calculus homework. It was not going well.

He didn’t even look up when there was a cheerful, rapid-fire knock on the door and Blaine came bustling in with a peppy, “Hi Dave!”

Dave, who had set up camp on his bed with his laptop and his copy of _Leaves of Grass_ , which he had picked for an independent report because, in his words, “I know fuckall about poetry, but _come on_ , it’s the obvious choice,” looked up. “Hey, what’s up?” he called happily, pulling out his earbuds. “You’re welcome to try to talk to this idiot, I’ve been bugging him for the last two hours, no dice.”

“Great, fantastic, this is going to be fun.” The sarcasm in Blaine’s voice had a smile on it. “By the way. Gummy bears. Thanks for letting me in.” He tossed a bag underhand to Dave, who caught it, laughing.

“Sweet.”

Sebastian, by that point, had slumped forward over his desk, his forehead practically touching the paper. He hadn’t written a single thing on it. He was seriously considering just putting his head down and crying for a while, and was only stopped from doing exactly that by Blaine’s arms wrapping around his shoulders and snuggling his face into the crook of his neck.

“Hi,” Blaine said against his skin.

Sebastian leaned their heads together, so very glad for the contact, but didn’t say anything.

“Getting anywhere?” Blaine propped his chin on Sebastian’s shoulder so he could look. “Nope. Thought not. Come on, let’s watch a movie.”

Sebastian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging Blaine. “I have to finish this.”

He didn’t see the look on Blaine’s face, but he could guess what it was when he got a gentle bop on the arm. “Nope. No you don’t. You’re burning yourself out being an idiot, and you need to take a break, watch a movie, get some rest and stop ignoring me.” A finger dug into his ribs with a vicious poke. “I will tickle you. I will tickle you, and I will get Dave to carry you, and we will make you give up.”

“Hey, keep me outta this,” Dave retorted from behind his book.

“Oh, like you’re not going to watch a movie with us.” Blaine poked Sebastian again, this time on the other side. “Come on. I brought _Captain America._ I need my Chris Evans fix.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth as he slouched, head dropping back so he stared at the ceiling. “Uggggggh. Fiiiiiiiiine,” he groaned, making it as overdramatic as possible. “If it’s a Chris Evans movie.”

Blaine leaned over him with a smile that crinkled the bridge of his nose, dropping a kiss on his forehead. “I win. Come on, grab your laptop and quit your whining, I wanna see how his ass looks in a spangly suit, get moving.”

The three of them piled comfortably on Sebastian’s bed – Blaine in the center, Dave on his left, Sebastian lying down on his right with his head on Blaine’s thigh. Neither of them remarked on how Sebastian snuggled into his oversized sweatshirt like a security blanket, or the fact that, as soon as they were settled, he grabbed Blaine’s hand, plopped it securely on top of his head, and nuzzled into it like a cat until Blaine took the hint and started petting his hair. By the time Steve Rogers stepped out of the Project Rebirth machine, Sebastian had slipped into a dreamy half-sleep. He vaguely listened to Blaine and Dave chat about the movie, catching random sentences – “God, he’s so adorable when he’s little,” “I worship Hayley Atwell, I mean watch, she’s a goddess among us.”

For the first time in a week – and oh god, had it been a bad week – he relaxed.

If he cried a little when Bucky fell from the train, they pretended not to notice.

 

~~~~

 

**263**

**Sophie:** Oh my god

 **Sophie:** Ohmygodohmygodohmygod

 **Sophie:** I need to talk to you

 **Sophie:** ANSWER YOUR PHONE

 **Sebastian:** Holy shit what are you ok

 **Sophie:** Yes yes yes yes yes

 **Sophie:** I GOT MY JUILLIARD LETTER

 **Sebastian:** Oh my god

 **Sebastian:** Did you open it??

 **Sophie:** NO

 **Sebastian:** Why the hell not??

 **Sophie:** I’M SCARED

 **Sophie:** Come home so I can open it!

 **Sebastian:** I can’t right now I’m sorry

 **Sebastian:** Hold onto it and open it here

 **Sebastian:** All the Warblers are opening their letters on Tuesday

 **Sebastian:** It’s like a thing

 **Sophie:** I don’t know if I can wait that long

 **Sophie:** It’s staring at me

 **Sophie:** It’s so THIN

 **Sophie:** And it’s just like SITTING THERE

 **Sebastian:** So OPEN IT

 **Sophie:** I CAN’T I WANT YOU TO BE THERE WHEN I DO

 **Sebastian:** WHY ARE WE YELLING

 **Sophie:** BECAUSE I MIGHT GET INTO JUILLIARD.

 **Sebastian:** THAT IS A GOOD REASON.

 **Sophie:** I KNOW.

 **Sebastian:** Seriously bring it over on Tuesday

 **Sebastian:** We’re all going to open all our letters together and go out after

 **Sebastian:** It’ll be fun

 **Sophie:** Uggggggggh

 **Sophie:** Okaaaaaaay

 **Sebastian:** Awesome!

 **Sophie:** Ugh I have to go to dance class

 **Sophie:** I’m gonna bury this somewhere so it doesn’t stare at me all weekend

 **Sebastian:** Try under your math book, that way no one will ever see it!

 **Sophie:** Very funny, jackass

 **Sebastian:** :p

 **Sebastian:** I’m gonna go check and see if Jeff got his letter

 **Sophie:** Give him kisses for me

 **Sebastian:** Nick punched me last time, so I’ll just tell him you say hi

 **Sophie:** You’re the worst

 **Sebastian:** I love you

 **Sophie:** I love you too

 

~~~~

 

**264**

The door to Nick and Jeff’s room was open when he approached, which meant they were there, but it was unusually quiet. He approached with caution – Jeff was the kind of boisterous, energetic person who only got quiet when he was completely focused on something (like he had been on their Nationals song for a couple weeks) or when something was very, very wrong.

When he knocked on the doorframe, Nick and Jeff were sitting side by side on Jeff’s bed, staring daggers at an envelope propped up on Nick’s desk. Sebastian recognized the return address with Juilliard’s seal.

“Answers my question,” he began, apropos of nothing.

Neither of them looked away from the envelope. Jeff looked so intense that Sebastian briefly worried about the desk setting on fire.

“So… I take it you haven’t opened the letter yet.”

“It’s so _thin_ ,” Jeff hissed, brows knitting.

“I know, Sophie said the same thing. Are you waiting until the Letter Party?”

“Yeah.” Jeff still didn’t look up.

“Nick, you too?”

“Yup.” Nick popped the ‘p’ in a way that was at odds with his glare, no less intense than Jeff’s. “My CIA letter came in today.”

“Wait, what, the Culinary Institute?” Sebastian straightened up in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s awesome!”

“I haven’t opened it either. I’m waiting until the party. It may actually kill me, but god dammit, I am going to wait.”

“Alright. I got all mine last week. So…. I guess I’ll see you guys in class tomorrow? Don’t hurt yourselves.”

 

~~~~

 

**265**

**Sebastian:** So

 **Blaine:** Yes?

 **Sebastian:** Thanks

 **Blaine:** For?

 **Sebastian:** Seriously are we going to play this game

 **Blaine:** Yes, yes we are

 **Sebastian:** UGH

 **Sebastian:** Thanks for coming over the other night.

 **Sebastian:** I now some of the crazy shit that goes on in my life isn’t exactly fun to deal with

 **Sebastian:** But I really appreciate your support.

 **Blaine:** You are welcome

 **Blaine:** After all, that is exactly what boyfriends are for.

 **Sebastian:** Yeah I know but

 **Sebastian:** Sometimes I don’t even want to deal with my life.

 **Blaine:** I can’t really blame you.

 **Blaine:** But I am here to help carry that weight.

 **Sebastian:** I know

 **Sebastian:** And I want you to know that I appreciate it

 **Sebastian:** Even if I have trouble actually saying it out loud

 **Sebastian:** You are WAY more than I deserve

 **Blaine:** Now that’s just not true

 **Sebastian:** Dave would disagree

 **Blaine:** I will admit that occasionally Dave has a point

 **Blaine:** But you are a good person. The way you take care of Sophie is proof of that.

 **Sebastian:** I just wanted to say thanks

 **Sebastian:** For being there for me and knowing what I needed when everything was shitty and I wasn’t able to tell you clearly

 **Blaine:** Chris Evans?

 **Sebastian:** Totally.

 

~~~~

 

**266**

When Sebastian strode into the Warblers rehearsal room, Nick, Jeff, and Trent were already there. Trent was sprawled out, taking up almost an entire couch for himself. Nick and Jeff were piled together into an armchair, Jeff’s head on Nick’s shoulder. Wes sat across another chair, typing away at his phone with one hand and nursing a mug of coffee with the other. The atmosphere was charged with nervousness.

At the center of the room, the coffee table was piled with envelopes. There was a mix of standard letter size – fat and thin – and full-page sized packets. Sebastian recognized some of the seals at a glance (Juilliard and the Culinary Institute included). With a dramatic sigh, he pulled his letter from his blazer pocket and dropped it onto the stack, which shifted and slid.

“How many was that?” Wes asked, not looking up.

“One. Are you sexting my sister?”

Wes spit coffee on his phone. (Mission accomplished.) “You son of a bitch,” he shouted, swinging his legs down to the floor and spilling most of his remaining coffee in the process. “Oh god it’s up my nose, oh god, you son of a bitch I’m going to kill you.”

Sebastian burst out laughing and dropped onto the arm of the couch next to Trent, who was laughing so hard he’d curled his legs up to his chest, holding his sides. Across the room, Jeff laughed until he snorted, which set Nick off, too. And just like that, the tension was broken.

The shocked look on Dave’s face when he walked into the room and saw them all laughing like idiots just sent Sebastian into a new round of giggles. (Totally manly giggles. He did not, in any way, sound like Sophie when he giggled. Nope.)

“Um.” Dave looked half concerned, half amused. “I feel like I missed something.”

Wes sniffed disdainfully as he removed his blazer, which had a splash of coffee on one sleeve. “Sebastian is a jackass.”

Dave shrugged. “Yeah, and?”

Sebastian stuck his tongue out at his roommate (because he was a grown-ass man like that). “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” Dave beamed a sarcastic, shit-eating grin at him as, with a flourish, he produced his own stack of envelopes. “Three for the pile, Wes.”

“Yeah, yeah, sit your ass down,” Wes grumbled.

Dave raised an eyebrow as he grabbed Trent’s feet and dropped them on the floor so he could sit on the couch. “Hi.”

Trent grinned at him like the lovesick fool he was. It would have made the old Sebastian sick. “Hi.”

“You nervous?”

“Dying. You?”

(Across the room, Jeff and Nick made kissy faces at them. Sebastian threw a pillow.)

Dave sighed, shoulders rising up to his ears before dropping again. “Same.”

Trent smiled reassuringly and patted his knee. “We’ll be fine.”

 

~~~~

 

**267**

Sophie strode into the room like she actually went to school there.

Which, if Sebastian was being honest, she practically did.

She smiled at all of them, stopping behind Wes’s seat to plant a kiss on him before tackle-hugging her brother. It knocked him clear off the arm of the couch and onto the floor, where he landed with a bumped elbow and an indignant “oof,” knocking a laugh out of her.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted her, face pressed clumsily into her shoulder.

“Hey, big brother,” she teased as she stood and helped him to his feet. He attempted to straighten his uniform, realized it was a lost cause and discarded the blazer.

“You ready?”

“Nope.” She pulled a folded envelope from the back pocket of her jeans, handing it over. “But I’m here.”

“Awesome.” He took the envelope and added it to the table. “One more, Wes.”

Wes stuck his tongue out, but his expression softened when Sophie crossed over and sank into the chair with him, his arm snug around her waist. She smiled softly at him and he brushed her hair behind her ear, gently running a thumb over her cheekbone. The way she smiled at him, mouthing a little “hello,” made Sebastian happy for his little sister.

“So, who else are we waiting for?” Jeff piped up from his spot on the couch. He’d removed his tie and fidgeted so much that it was tied in a complicated series of knots, practically round.

“Uh.” Wes snapped out of his little Sophie-trance with his usual grace and decorum. “Beatz? Yeah, Beatz.”

“And Blaine,” Sebastian added as he climbed back on the couch, choosing to perch on the back with his feet on the arm rest. Everyone looked up. Well, it wasn’t like they didn’t know. “He’ll be here, he texted me a minute ago.”

“Okay, Beatz and Blaine.”

On cue (because the Warblers could be such dramatic bastards sometimes), the door swung open and Beatz swanned in, in all his spiky-haired, rumple-uniformed, life-of-the-party glory. “You rang?” he deadpanned with an overdramatic sweep of his arms. Jeff threw a pillow at him and he dodged, laughing, tossing two letters to the ever-growing pile on the table, high-fiving Nick on his way across the room. He dropped, cross-legged, onto the floor. “So are we getting the party started or what?”

“We’re waiting for Blaine,” Nick replied, still laughing over his entrance.

“How is it that he doesn’t even _go here_ and we’re always waiting for his dumb ass?” Jeff asked, which immediately set Trent off yelling, “He doesn’t even _go here_!”

Blaine came in to a chorus of Trent yelling, “He doesn’t even go here,” Nick shouting “Boo you whore,” and Dave laughing his ass off while imitating the “Jingle Bell Rock” dance.

Blaine joined in the dance without batting an eye. He did it flawlessly. Sebastian laughed until he cried.

 

~~~~

 

**268**

It took twenty minutes to get the room calmed down enough to get the Warbler’s Twenty-Third Annual College Acceptance Letter Party started, and even then, Jeff’s snickers kept setting off gales of laughter from Nick and Sophie. Wes kept sending them dirty looks, which didn’t stop them in the least.

At the center of the room, the coffee table was stacked with a precarious heap of letters. Around it gathered the senior Warblers – Wes, Sebastian, Nick, Jeff, Beatz, Trent, and Dave – plus Sophie and Blaine.

The letter totals were:

Wes: 5.

Sebastian: 1.

Nick: 3.

Jeff: 2.

Beatz: 2.

Trent: 3.

Dave: 3.

Sophie: 1.

Blaine: 4.

They started off by sorting the letters. There were two rules: No one opened their own letters, and top choices were saved for last. Other than that, there were no rules. (Sebastian highly doubted it was actually the Twenty-Third Annual anything. Wes was probably making that up.)

For all the laughing they had done not ten minutes before, the tension in the room skyrocketed the minute Beatz picked up the first letter (Dave’s) and, in an inauspicious beginning, told him it was a no. Since it was from Ohio State, Dave looked crestfallen. Trent rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, Jeff and Sophie leaning across the table to do the same, but the disappointed look on his face didn’t change until they’d gone halfway around the table (Blaine: Yes from the Tisch school at NYU, Wes: yes from Brown, Nick: yes from City College of New York).

After that, Dave threw his hands in the air and, with all the considerable power of his voice, declared that this was supposed to be a party, dammit, and they were going to celebrate if it killed them all. With that, he pointed a huge hand at Jeff and told him that he’d been accepted to NYU’s dance program, and if he didn’t start acting happy about it, so help him he’d go get some goddamn confetti. Wes choked on his newly-freshened cup of coffee from laughter.

After that it moved much more smoothly. Envelopes were crumpled and thrown around the room as they were opened. Nick’s second letter (a rejection from Johnson and Wales’ culinary program) was turned into a paper airplane and sent sailing out a window into the brilliant spring day. Sophie and Sebastian, who had contributed only one letter each, gleefully read everyone else’s, sharing high fives and cheers. Even Dave, whose other letter (Kent State) turned out to also be a rejection, refused to let it get him down, clapping his hands and telling everyone to move on, just move on.

By the time they had gone through all of the main pile of letters, it felt like the assembled Warblers had been accepted to two-thirds of the Ivy League and most of the art schools in the country. (Mostly that was Wes, the overachiever. Sebastian aimed a barrage of crumpled envelopes at his head.) Blaine was running high on adrenaline – he was three for three, with NYU, Boston College, and Duke’s music programs all offering him a spot, with the NYADA envelope still smiling at him from the table. It felt like every dream he’d ever had was coming true. Across the table, Nick had his arm securely around Jeff’s shoulders. Sophie, growing silently nervous, had commandeered part of Wes’s chair for comfort, but she was smiling at him with pride all the same. Dave was putting on a brave face next to Trent and Beatz.

Sebastian leaned into Blaine’s shoulder and smiled. “How do you feel?”

Blaine just shrugged. There were no words. His face felt ready to split from smiling.

“Yeah, me too.” He sat up and projected across the room. “So, who’s ready for the big reveal?”

 

~~~~

 

**269**

They decided to take a breather before the final round of letters. Trent, Dave, Blaine, and Nick went in search of coffee. Jeff stepped out to make a phone call. Sebastian and Beatz grabbed notebooks from their bags and leaned together to discuss their Nationals plans. Wes took the opportunity to tally up the results as they stood.

He, Blaine, and Trent had been accepted into all of their colleges so far.

 Nick, Jeff, and Beatz had all gotten into one.

Sophie and Sebastian’s sole letters remained unopened.

But Dave… Dave had gotten rejections thus far, and had only shrugged when they reminded him he still had one left to go. The letter in question sat at the edge of the table like a sick joke.

He realized he’d been staring daggers at the letter when Sophie bopped him gently on the head with the palm of her hand. “Hey. Hey! Earth to Wes! If you’re trying to set the table on fire with your mind, don’t bother. Trent already tried, and if anyone’s going to develop pyrokinesis, it’s that guy.”

Wes blinked at her. “My immediate reaction is to agree with you, and it worries me.”

“Trent is a scary, scary man,” she deadpanned, checking her phone casually before tucking it in her sweater pocket. “Seriously, though, what’s up? You look worried.”

He chewed his lip before responding, “I’m kinda worried about Dave. He’s worked really hard. What if he doesn’t get in anywhere?”

Sophie smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head back to kiss him softly. “I know. I was thinking about that too.”

“I mean, I really, _really_ hope he does. I just don’t know what I can say or do if he doesn’t.”

She shifted, turning to sling her legs over his, and snuggled more securely into her seat. “Well, I think we have a couple options. One, we find a way to help him say “fuck it” and come up with a new plan. Two, we help him say “fuck _that_ ” and help him change the admission committee’s minds. The most important thing is what Dave wants us to do.”

“I feel like I should tell you to watch your language.”

“I feel like I should tell you to shut the fuck up.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I know you do.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note that post #270 involves an anxiety attack.

**270**

Jeff was not making a phone call.

Jeff was huddled on a window bench with the heavy curtains pulled closed, hiding him from the rest of the school. He kept telling himself he just needed a breather. He was probably lying to himself. His heart was racing just as badly as his thoughts. There was a part of his brain noting that it was a new feeling and probably not a good sign. The rest of his brain was occupied with panicking.

He sat bolt upright when there was a gentle knock on the wall next to his hiding place, like someone was asking permission to come into his dorm room. Rubbing his eyes (he couldn’t tell if he’d been crying but he’d feel worse if someone saw him actually in tears), he pulled the curtain back with one hand and peeked out. Dave stood above him, knuckles white around a coffee mug.

“Hey,” he began uneasily. “I, um. I saw your feet… and, uh, I know this is a really dumb question, but are you okay?”

In response, Jeff burst out laughing. He realized that it was inappropriate and he probably sounded completely ridiculous and more than a little crazy, but he couldn’t help it. It hurt his sides and brought tears to his eyes, but he couldn’t stop.

Then Dave was laughing, too, and that made him feel a little bit better but it also made him laugh harder. Soon they were both in full-blown hysterics, Dave leaning on the wall for support and Jeff clutching his sides.

Then, just as suddenly, he was crying all over again and Dave pulled him to his feet and into an all-encompassing hug.

“You’re gonna be okay, Jeff.” Dave’s voice was a deep rumble against his chest. “No matter what happens with that letter, you’ve got all of us, and we’ll help you figure it out, okay?”

Jeff sniffled and straightened up, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands and gratefully accepting a tissue from Dave. “God, sorry, I cried all over you.”

Dave just shrugged and passed him another tissue. Apparently he kept a mini pack in his pocket. “Been there.”

“Ugh, I’m a mess. Oh god, we have to go back in, don’t we? Everyone’s gonna be waiting for us.”

“Not necessarily. You can totally sit this out. I’m sure everyone would understand.”

He rubbed his cheeks and ran his hands through his hair. His face was probably blotchy and red, so messing up his hair was the least of his concerns. He focused on deep breaths, in then out. “Avoiding it isn’t going to change the outcome, is it?”

Dave shrugged again, but it was half-hearted. “Probably not. Doesn’t mean everyone has to watch.”

“Ugh. Fuuuuuuuuck.” Squaring his shoulders, he mentally braced himself to take that first step toward the rehearsal room. “Alright. Let’s do it. Come on, before I change my mind.”

Then, before he could think about it and get scared again, he plowed forward. Dave swung into step behind him like a silent wall of support.

It took a second, but when Jeff realized, he stopped dead. “Oh my god, I am an asshole.”

Dave nearly ran him over, coming up short with a look of surprise. “I mean, yeah, you are? But what makes you say that now?”

“Oh my god, Dave, I’m sorry. I’ve been freaking out but I should have been checking in on _you_. Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

“I—dude, what? No no no. Dude. It’s okay. I don’t have a monopoly on worry here.”

“But what are you going to _do_?”

Even Dave looked surprised when he answered, “I don’t know.” The admission seemed to rattle him, like it shook more words out. “I mean, I know I have options. I’ve been talking them over with my dad. I can go to community college. I can take a year off. I was actually thinking it would be good for me to do AmeriCorps if I don’t get into school.”

“Oh my god! That’s great!”

“Yeah. I kinda always wanted to do something like that. I think even if I do get in, I’ll do it after college. Come on, I’m basically _designed_ to build houses. Habitat for Humanity is gonna _love_ me.” He clapped Jeff reassuringly on the shoulder. “I’m gonna be fine. _You’re_ gonna be fine. Now, let’s get in there and get our good news, okay?”

 

~~~~

 

**271**

Sophie already had Sebastian’s envelope clutched in her hands by the time everyone returned from roaming around campus. When he came back, arm casually around Blaine’s shoulders, she picked another up by the corner and flung it at him like she would a playing card, flicking her wrist with ease.  It flew at the boys, who ducked and scattered apart, setting off gales of laughter among their friends. Sebastian stuck his tongue out at his sister as he retrieved it from inside the piano.

They settled into an uncomfortable circle and passed around the rest of the envelopes.

Then they all stared at each other for a solid two minutes.

Finally Jeff, looking ready to burst from anxiety, jumped to his feet, holding an envelope above his head. “Mister Trent Nixon, you have a letter here from Juilliard.” Trent blanched, but Jeff, undaunted, tore it open, unfolding the letter inside. It seemed like an eternity as he scanned it. Trent looked like he might faint from the stress.

Then Jeff looked up and grinned. “Wecome to Juilliard, you son of a bitch!”

Trent’s mouth dropped open. “I got in?”

“Bachelor of Music, with a concentration in piano. You got in!”

Trent actually yelped as he jumped to his feet, nearly crushing Jeff with a hug. The rest of the group cheered and clapped until he sat down again, wiping happy tears from his eyes. Dave patted his back and smiled at him.

Everyone looked expectantly at Dave. “Oh, I guess we’re doing the clockwise thing? Alright, fine then. Beatz, my man.” He looked at the enveloped. “Or should I say… Bradley? Really? I didn’t know that. Okay. Wait a second, MIT? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope.” Beatz grinned. “Physics.”

Sebastian nudged Blaine with an elbow and whispered, “Did you know about this?”

“I’m just as surprised as you,” he answered, also whispering, because he expected a lot of things, but Beatz getting a degree in physics? Pigs must be flying somewhere. Possibly while ice skating in hell.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, you crazy bastard, you are gonna go to fucking MIT.” Dave leaned across the table for a high five. “Am I the only one who didn’t know about this? Are you fucking _kidding_?”

“I am not fucking kidding,” Beatz responded with a laugh as he sat back into the couch.

“You got a scholarship and everything, you crazy bastard. Okay, well, looks like no one is gonna top that, I may as well just go home.” Dave laughed as he handed the letter over.

“Uh uh uh, not so fast,” Nick interjected. He was not next in line, but didn’t seem to care. “Because Westley Aaron Montgomery, Columbia University says hello. And welcome.”

It took a second to sink in, but then Wes sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Sophie off the arm of the chair. “I got in?”

“You did.”

Wes grabbed the letter right out of Nick’s hands, and he and Sophie huddled over it.

“What program was it?” she asked.

“Linguistics. Holy shit. Oh my god, you guys, I got in!” Sophie squealed and threw her arms around his neck, almost tossing them both to the floor. Sebastian reached over and thumped his back in a congratulatory way, and he released Sophie with one hand long enough to give him a high five.

When he settled down, it was Blaine’s turn. The Juilliard envelope in his hands – this one bearing Jeff’s name – wasn’t nearly as sinister as he thought it would be. It was _Jeff_. He slid his finger under the seal, and was, for a brief second, tempted to tease his friend and make him wait for it.

The stricken look on Jeff’s face, however, was enough to change his mind. He tore the flap of the envelope trying to get it open quicker. Nick squeezed Jeff’s hand.

“Jeffrey Sterling… Congratulations, you got in!”

There was a brief second of stunned silence before everyone exploded in cheers. Jeff dropped back into the couch, hands over his face, but Blaine could see a smile even as he wiped tears away. He looked up only long enough to wave his hands frantically in a “focus on someone else” gesture.

Sebastian needed no other direction, holding a letter above his head to draw everyone away from Jeff. “Alright, alright, while we’re on the topic of Juilliard – hey, idiots, look over here, shiny things! – Sophie, my beloved little sister,” (he clasped the letter over his heart, Sophie looked ready to hit him), “in the least surprising development today, you will be joining Jeff in New York City next year!”

Sophie shrieked with joy and launched herself out of her seat, getting Blaine along the way to hug her brother. Blaine laughed as he was squeezed into her shoulder, Sebastian’s chest against his back. Laughing and beaming, she kissed both their cheeks before jumping back into Wes’s embrace, already chattering about how excited she was to go to New York. Jeff and Nick reached across for high fives as well.

He was so caught up in her exuberance that it wasn’t until the second time Beatz tapped him on the shoulder – with Trent tapping the top of his head for good measure—that he even noticed and turned around. Beatz held up an envelope with thee NYADA logo on the corner.

Oh. Shit. It was his.

Beatz grinned. “You ready?”

Suddenly, there was no air. Blaine just nodded, because any answer would have just come out as a squeak.

Beatz slipped a finger under the seal, then paused. “Do you want me to sing it to you?”

That got his voice back. “Beatz, or Bradley, or whatever the hell your name is, I’m going to hurt you if you keep messing around.”

Beatz laughed hugely as Sebastian wrapped a playfully restraining arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “Whoa there, killer, let’s not injure our resident genius.”

“I will kick your ass, I swear to god, why haven’t you opened the letter yet?” (He was 90% joking. Okay, 70%.)

Beatz made a jokingly scared face and curled his shoulders around the letter. “I’m scaaaaaaaaared, though,” he whined.

“Dude, seriously.” Sebastian was laughing even as he wrapped another arm around Blaine. “Open the letter before he _actually_ kills you. Have you ever seen him angry? _Terrifying_.”

“Five foot nothing of _fury_ ,” Beatz joked as he tore the envelope. “And going to NYADA in the fall. Congratulations!”

Everyone started shouting before it even sank in. By the time he realized what was happening, Sebastian was grabbing him and hugging him. Laughing, he sank into it. He was going to New York. He was going to live his dream. By the time he leaned back into his seat, there were tears in his eyes.

“Alright, we have only two left,” Trent announced from his seat. “Who wants to go next?”

Dave groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Oh god. Please don’t leave me for last. Just do it, I beg you.”

Trent rubbed his back reassuringly. “You sure?”

Dave didn’t look up. “Yes. Do it.”

“Okay.” Since Dave wasn’t looking, Trent shot a nervous look around the rest of the group. The positive results from everybody else’s letters had only increased the pressure on Dave. If it was another rejection…

Sebastian shook his head decisively. The set of his jaw made his message clear: Stop thinking like that.

Trent tore open the envelope and opened the letter. It took him a painfully long moment to read it.

“Okay, so… Mister David Karofsky, on behalf of Temple University, we are glad to welcome you to the school of tourism and hospitality management. Holy shit! Dave! You got in!”

There was a moment of stunned surprise, before everyone was on their feet cheering. Dave looked stunned. Trent leaned in to show him the letter. Blaine could hear Dave repeating “oh my god, oh my god” under everyone’s cheers before Trent laughed and wrapped his arms around him. He didn’t sit up by the time everyone took their seats again, and when everyone realized there were probably some tears in his eyes, everyone turned to Sophie, holder of the final letter.

She looked confused by the attention before she realized. “Oh! Okay, everyone, last letter. And it’s yours, Sebastian! Okay, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts.” She raised an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously?”

Sebastian made an “oh _come on_ ” gesture so big it knocked Blaine’s shoulder. “Yes, seriously, oh my god you’re _killing me_.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, but tore open the envelope all the same.

She opened the letter.

Sebastian grabbed for Blaine’s hand.

Her lips moved slightly as she read.

She looked up.

She smiled.

“You got in!”

Sebastian pumped a fist in the air and whooped. Sophie looked stunned. “Wait… Did we all get into our top choices?”

Jeff looked around the group. “Holy shit. We did!”

“Well what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s _celebrate_!”

 

~~~~

 

**272**

“How do you feel?”

After two hours of raucous celebrations with the Warblers, Blaine was both exhausted and overjoyed. The initial adrenaline high had worn off somewhere around the time Jeff danced with him to “Everybody Talks.” The guy was crazy. He was going to be king of Juilliard.

“Exhausted. And happy. But mostly exhausted. You?”

“Same. I’m just so… _happy_ for everyone. It feels good. Being nice isn’t as bad as I always thought it would be.”

Blaine smirked and rolled his eyes. “You realize that just saying that put you back a step, right?”

“Probably, but I figure I have a few to spare. So, plans this weekend?”

Blaine’s shoulders dropped. “Extra rehearsals. Sam picked a song for Nationals, and don’t get me wrong, it’s going to be amazing, but it’s _super_ complicated.”

“Weekend rehearsals. Huh. We should probably start doing those soon.”

“You haven’t already? The way you were complaining, I thought your song was even worse than ours.”

“Oh, it is. We’re going to _slaughter_ you. But I was holding off until after the letter party. I figured if I added another layer of stress, I’d have a full-blown mutiny on my hands.”

“Probably true.”

“So… can I see you next week, then?”

Blaine stopped just inside the door. The wind had picked up outside, biting. “We’re in rehearsal all week. I just realized.” Sebastian’s face fell in disappointment. “Are you gonna be okay with that?”

He shrugged, but still looked upset. “I mean… I’ll try to be. I won’t try to keep you from your friends. But – and I can’t believe I’m about to say this – I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But the competition is in a couple weeks, we’ll have much more time after that.”

“It’s longer than a few weeks, but I’ll suck it up.”

Blaine mentally ran through his calendar. “Okay, three weeks. Yeah, it’ll suck, but it’s not all _that_ long.”

“Blaine, that’s not what I meant – it’s _definitely_ further than three weeks away.”

“Nope. First weekend in May.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit, you’re right.”

“Yeah.”

“We should probably go rehearse.”

Blaine smiled. “Probably.”

Sebastian squared his shoulders. “Alright. Well, get your ass outta here, I have Warblers to yell at.”

“Okay, okay, _fine_ , I’m going,” he answered with mock exasperation. “Don’t I get a kiss first?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Then, with a sudden energy, Sebastian threw his arms around Blaine and hugged him so hard he lifted up on his toes, planting a solid kiss on his mouth before letting him down.

“Alright, get going.” Sebastian swatted his butt playfully. “You should probably rehearse if you don’t want us to completely embarrass you in a couple weeks.”

Blaine smiled fondly. “Jackass.”

“Yup. But a jackass who’s going to _win_.”

 

~~~~

 

**273**

**Sam:** BRO

 **Sam:** BRO BRO BRO

 **Sam:** ANSWER YOUR PHOOOOOOONE

“What, what, oh my god, what happened?” Blaine hadn’t even made it to his car before his phone had begun to buzz insistently in his pocket. By the time he unlocked the door and got the engine warming up, he had three missed calls from Sam.

“Dude! Blaine, dude, we both got in! Tina and I both got our first choice! Tina’s gonna be a speech therapist! I’m gonna be a teacher!”

“Oh my god, Sam, that’s amazing!”

“I know! What about you? You didn’t post anything on Facebook, we’ve been waiting all night!”

“Oh, oh I forgot! Sorry. I got in too. So did everyone!”

“ _What_?! Dude, that’s awesome! We gotta celebrate! Wait, no, you can’t invite them. They’re our rivals. Whatever! You and me and Tina have to celebrate tomorrow!”

Blaine laughed. “Yeah, okay, okay, we will. Right after rehearsal, we’ll go celebrate.” His phone buzzed insistently in his hand, the screen lighting up with another call. “Shoot, I gotta go, someone else is calling me and I have to drive home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t forget! Celebrating!”

“I won’t. Bye, Sam.”

“BYE!”

Still chuckling, Blaine swiped open the other call without looking, figuring it was one of the other New Directions. He tried quickly to figure out what he’d missed while at Dalton. “Hello?”

“Hi, Blaine. It’s been a while.”

 

~~~

 

**274**

“Hi, Blaine. It’s been a while.”

It was a shock. “Kurt? Kurt, hey, how are you?”

“I’m well. I saw some of the other Warblers posting about the letter party. I just wanted to congratulate you, seeing as I figured you were a shoo-in for NYADA.”

“I… yeah, I did get in. Thank you.”

There was a long pause before, “Do you not want to talk to me? I know this is out of the blue, so I can go if you want me to.”

“No, no it’s fine. This is just a surprise. How are you?”

“I’m well. I just found out I was accepted to the costume design program at DePaul. So I’ll be staying in Chicago.”

“That’s great! Not the, you know, staying in Chicago part, I didn’t mean that. I meant the program.”

Kurt laughed. “I know what you mean. But I’m looking forward to staying here. I made a lot of friends working on ‘Gypsy,” and one of them is already a student there. Her name’s Kate, you’d like her. So I think it’s going to be fun.”

“That’s great. Kurt, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot. Anyway, I’m sure you’re either driving home or about to, so I’ll let you go. But, can I give you a call sometime soon?”

“Yeah, yeah absolutely. Um… Things are going to be sort of crazy, since we have Nationals in a few weeks. But I’d like it if you called.”

“Oh right, I forgot about Nationals. I’ll let you focus on that. But it’s here in Chicago, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think about that. It is.”

“Perfect. If you get a free minute, could we get coffee or something?”

“Of course. That would be nice.”

“Great. So, I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know the details once I know them.” He smiled, despite the fact that he felt suddenly sad. “It was good to hear from you.”

“Bye, Blaine.”

“Bye.”

He sat in the car for a moment before he felt collected enough to drive, trying to figure out the feeling that had come over him like a slow, creeping tide. It was sadness, yes, thick with nostalgia and missing the boy he’d spent so much time loving. It was the sadness and fear of knowing that his life was soon to change. Even if it was for the better.

He took a deep breath and put the car in drive. Just for the hell of it, he listened to “It’s Not Unusual” on the way home.

His heart hurt, but he smiled, too.

 

~~~~

 

**275**

Sebastian shook the rain off his jacket as he stepped into the house, toeing off his shoes. “Sophie?” he called down the hall, his voice echoing – the place was huge, and with only one teenage girl as a permanent resident, it always felt empty.

After a moment, though, his sister bounded down the stairs, socked feet leaping from step to step. “Hey, big brother! What’s up? You didn’t say anything was going on when you texted.”

In response, he reached into his bag and produced a handful of letters she’d never seen before. They weren’t the ones he brought to the letter party with the other Warblers. In fact, they had watermarks from some of the most prestigious schools in the country.

He grinned. “Wanna help me burn these?”

She was momentarily shocked, but recovered with a smile. “You get started. I’ll make popcorn.”

 

Ten minutes later they reconvened in the library. Despite the mid-April warmth, Sebastian had the fireplace roaring. Thankfully Sophie, proving once again to be the smarter twin, brought a pitcher of lemonade along with the popcorn. She set them down carefully before dropping comfortably to the floor, stretching her legs so that her feet were just on the edge of the fire’s heat. Satisfied he had it going, Sebastian sat next to her.

“So where are they from?” Sophie asked after her first handful of popcorn.

“Business schools.” He sifted through the letters, handing a few over so she could look at them. “One’s pre-law.”

She turned the envelope over and found it was still sealed. “You don’t want to open them?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I guess I don’t really care what they say. I got into the program I really wanted. These were all… I don’t know. I felt like I _had_ to more than I _wanted_ to.”

She nodded and smiled. “So we’re burning them?”

“We’re burning them.”

“You’re _sure_ you don’t want to know what they say?”

“Completely sure.”

“Awesome. Let’s do it.”

There was a moment of hesitation as Sebastian looked at one of the envelopes. In it was, potentially, a different life – a life of money and privilege, access to all the things he was supposed to want. The first steps toward that life could be right there in his hands.

It lasted only a second, then he tore the letter in half and threw it into the fire.

A few minutes later every letter was shredded and burned to ash, their contents forever unknown and, after that day, never thought of again. Sebastian smiled at his sister, who leaned back on her hands to keep her face away from the heat. She looked relaxed, but he could see something tense in her shoulders.

Sensing him looking at her, she turned. “Are we going to be okay?”

When he said yes, he knew immediately that it was too flippant. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to come up with the right answer. “I mean. Yes, we will. It’ll be… It’ll be difficult, and fun, and scary, and it won’t always seem like we made the right decisions. And sometimes we _will_ make the wrong decision. But we’ll be in it together, right? You know I’m always gonna have your back.”

She smiled at him and reached over to shove at his shoulder, rocking him to the side. “I know.”

“Good. Remember that when I’m acting like an idiot and you hate my guts. Don’t laugh, you know it’ll happen sooner or later.”

 

~~~~~

 

**276**

In the end, it was a Facebook post that revealed the truth of his relationship to the New Directions.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised.

Still, he had no idea that it had happened until he walked into the choir room after class. Distracted by his phone, finally responding to a text Jeff sent him earlier, he didn’t notice that something was up until the room went dead silent.

When he looked up, everyone was staring at him, and no one was happy about it.

“Uh.” _Way to go, Anderson, you genius_. “Is everything okay?”

Sam was the first to speak up. “Dude, I’m sorry. I tried to talk them down, and so did Tina.”

“Tried to talk them down from what?”

“Jeff put some pictures on Facebook. Haven’t you checked today? You’re in a _lot_ of them,” Tina added, standing next to Sam, like they were trying to form a united front against the rest of the group.

“Photos from…” He didn’t even need to finish the question before he realized. Photos from the letter party. A party he’d spent curled up on the couch next to Sebastian.

So. That couldn’t be good.

“We didn’t tell them, Blaine, honest.” There was a note of pleading in Tina’s voice, and that more than anything made him realize he was in trouble.

The rest of the New Directions were looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, and he knew he had to defuse the situation _fast_.

“So… I guess you guys know I’m dating Sebastian.”

Artie shook his head. “Dude, I don’t understand why you didn’t tell us.”

“I wanted to. Especially you, Artie, I really did, but I knew it would go like this.”

“Sam and Tina seem to have known for a while, though. I thought we were friends.”

“We are. They found out by mistake. They were going to help me break it to you. I was getting ready for it.”

“Getting ready for what?” Mr. Scheuster asked as he walked in, his timing as impeccable as always. When he saw what was going on – the entire team staring down at Blaine, isolated in the center of the floor, with only Sam and Tina near his side – he immediately looked concerned. “Blaine, is everything alright?”

He opened his mouth to say something – everything is fine, Mr. Schue, seriously, let’s get started – but knew that denying the situation just meant he’d hear it from someone else. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure. Come on, we can go to my office.”

 

~~~~

 

**277**

Blaine took three minutes to give Mr. Scheuster the barest outline of events, starting with the accidental text message and ending with that afternoon.

Then he waited three more minutes for a response.

“A lot of people have said the same thing,” he deadpanned when he finally got tired of waiting. “I feel like it’s rather an overreaction. I hear it’s normal for teenagers to go on dates.”

Mr. Scheuster sat back in his seat with a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Blaine, you really threw me for a loop.”

“It surprised me too.”

“I’m just worried about your safety. After what he did to you, your decision to forgive him is really noble. But are you sure he won’t do something like that again?”

“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t be dating him if I wasn’t sure. He’s spent every day since then trying so hard to make up for it and be a better person. I trust him. You can ask Sam and Tina if you’re not convinced.”

“I don’t want to ask Sam and Tina, I want to ask you.”

“And I just answered you. I’m fine. I’m _happy_.”

“Okay, Blaine. I believe you.” Mr. Scheuster leaned forward and put his arms on the desk. “But if anything changes”—

“Is this the part where you offer to have him killed? You’re not the first. You’re actually the sixth or seventh. Can we go back to rehearsal now? I have damage control to do.”

“Yeah, of course. But think about what I said.”

“I will duly inform my boyfriend of your murderous intentions. Thanks, Mr. Schue.”

 

~~~~

 

**278**

**Blaine:** Secret’s out.

 **Sebastian:** You finally told everyone about your death ray and plans for world domination?

 **Blaine:** Sadly, no. I mean everyone in New Directions found out about you and me.

 **Sebastian:** That was my second guess.

 **Blaine:** I promised Mr. Schue I’d pass along the message that if you step out of line, he’ll kill you.

 **Blaine:** Artie says the same.

 **Sebastian:** What does it say about my life that I accept that as par for the course?

 **Blaine:** It says you’re a jackass.

 **Sebastian:** True.

 **Sebastian:** I miss you.

 **Blaine:** I saw you just a few days ago.

 **Sebastian:** And I don’t get to see you again for two more weeks.

 **Sebastian:** And even then, it’ll be as your competition.

 **Blaine:** You mean watching my team beat you.

 **Sebastian:** Ah yeah, that’s totally what I meant.

**Sebastian:** I’m still disappointed that you have not yet developed a death ray.

 **Sebastian:** I’m going to ask Trent about it. We both know he has his eye on world domination.

~~~~

**279**

**Trent** : Personal question time!

 **Blaine** : Oh god.

 **Trent** : Ever woken up from a nap with a girl in your bed?

 **Blaine** : Can’t say I have.

 **Trent** : Cause I’m DEFINITELY gay, but girls are fucking awesome to cuddle with.

 **Blaine** : I’ll take your word for it.

 **Trent** : No seriously. She’s soft, she’s warm, she smells AMAZING. Plus, girls love all that cuddly stuff, so really it’s a win-win.

 **Blaine** : I assume we’re talking about Sophie?

 **Trent** : We are indeed.

 **Blaine** : How in the world did she even end up in your room?

 **Trent** : Saturday rehearsal! We’d been dancing our asses off all morning and Sebastian took pity and gave us a break, so Sophie and I decided to crash

 **Trent** : She crashed in my bed so I put on a movie

 **Trent** : I don’t know what it is, but she smells like vanilla cupcakes.

 **Blaine** : Does Sebastian know you spend so much time in bed with his sister?

 **Trent** : Good lord Blaine, I’m offended. You make it sound dirty.

 **Blaine** : I’m just saying he may not take too kindly to it.

 **Trent** : Thanks to Sophie I have enough blackmail material on him to keep him quiet for years. So I’m not particularly worried about what he thinks.

 **Blaine** : When did you become an evil mastermind?

 **Trent** : Birth. You just never noticed.

. 

 .

 .

 .

 **Blaine:** Have you ever considered developing a death ray?


	30. Chapter 30

**280**

Sebastian called a twenty minute break for everyone to catch their breath.

They sounded _amazing_.

He always knew they would nail their first song – it was simple, with good harmonies and next to no choreography, which made it comparatively easy. They didn’t really need a lot of rehearsal, though they made time for it anyway.

It was the second song that was tripping them up, often literally, with the complex choreography. It wasn’t particularly athletic. It couldn’t be, since they needed all of their concentration on the fact that nearly everyone was singing a different part. That was probably a sign he’d overreached.

All around him, fellow Warblers were cracking out water bottles, phones, and homework to make the most of their break. He took a minute to lean back, close his eyes, and think over what he needed to do after rehearsal: math homework, two essays, and there was a book he should probably brush up on even though he read it two years ago. No problem, right?

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Kieran sitting next to him. “How are you holding up, kid?”

"Good, actually. I mean, I'm nervous about going to Nationals in my first year, but I know you guys got me. It's going to be  _awesome."_

Sebastian smiled. "Hell yeah. If my feet don't fall off, of course." He grabbed a sheet of paper from his notebook and crumpled it into a frustrated ball. "J _eff_!"

Across the room, Jeff sat bolt upright from where he'd been lying on the floor. "What? What'd I do?" The ball of paper hit him square in the forehead, bouncing off into his lap. "Hey! Jackass."

Sebastian blew him a kiss. "This choreography is  _awesome_."

Jeff rolled his eyes and laid back down. "Of course it is. I'm a damn genius."

Sebastian grinned at Kieran. "You're going to crush it. We'll mop the floor with everyone else, then party so hard we forget about finals. Sound good?"

Kieran smiled. "Sounds good."

 

 

 

**281**

Blaine, Tina and Sam kicked a freshman out of his seat on the bus so that they could crowd in together, Tina and Blaine shoulder-to-shoulder and Sam behind them, arms crossed over the back of their seat. (Mr. Schue reminded him to sit down three times, then simply gave up and pretended he didn't see.) They shared snacks from Tina's bag (she had a weakness for Doritos, but always tracked down plantain chips for Sam) and talked about a lot of nothing for a while.

The weeks ahead held a lot of changes. There would only be a handful of real school days left, with the final week and a half being taken up with exams. Blaine and Tina's AP course load meant that they would be doing nothing but studying once they got back. Sam had two AP classes as well, but he told them he'd decided to focus on the literature test, and was drafting essay paragraphs about some of his favorite books. "It's way easier for me to go in with an idea of what I'm gonna write," he told them. "Timed essays are the  _worst._ "

Tina patted his arm. "You're going to be awesome, don't even worry about it."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Thanks."

They moved on quickly -- they had enough to be anxious about with the competition, no use focusing on anything else before then. "So, do you guys want to grab dinner once we get there?" Tina asked. "I'd definitely like to get away from everyone else for a little while."

"Yeah, that would be great. We probably can't go far, though."

Blaine opened his mouth to respond when he suddenly remembered -- Kurt. Coffee. He'd promised. They'd even decided on a time. "Oh, shoot. I forgot! I promised Kurt I'd meet up with him for coffee once we got there. Just, you know, to talk."

Sam and Tina both raised their eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know you still talked," Tina said, "you never mentioned it."

"Yeah, well... I mean, not much. He saw we were going to be in Chicago and he asked if we could meet up for a little while."

"Does Sebastian know?" Sam asked, always the surprisingly perceptive one.

He rushed to say yes, of course, but realized... He had forgotten. He cringed, embarrassed to admit it. "No?"

"You should probably tell him." Sam nodded in agreement with Tina. "Better to be up front about it."

"It's not like I'm going to... It's not like anything's going to happen."

"Of course not. And I'm sure he knows that. But still, it's better he hears it from you, and not secondhand from one of the other Warblers."

Blaine sighed. "When did you two become my conscience?"

Sam winked. "Whatever, I'm good at it."

 

**282**

**Blaine:**  Hey I'm really sorry to do this but I forgot to tell you something.

**Blaine:**  Kurt and I talked a while back and we are going to get coffee once we get to the hotel.

**Blaine:**  Please don't be upset.

**Blaine:**  You know, twenty minutes of silence is kinda worrying.

**Sebastian:** Sorry sorry sorry

**Sebastian:** I asked Jeff how a responsible mature adult would respond, and he of course had no idea, so we asked Nick.

**Sebastian:** And he went off on a long tangent using words like "respect" and "trust"

**Sebastian:** BTW, he has become our go-to wisdom guru since you left, dude is amazing.

**Blaine:**  Good to know.

**Sebastian:** Anyway, we agreed that what mature adults do is be "honest about their feelings"

**Sebastian:**  I'd spend more time explaining if I was any good at it, but I'm emotionally stunted and heartless, so:

**Sebastian:** I'm not going to lie to you and say I'm thrilled, because I'm not, but I trust you and (do not EVER tell anyone I said this) I trust him, and I know that you loved him, and your stupid big heart means that you still care about him a lot, so I am not going to stand in the way of that

**Sebastian:** But I kind of wish you had told me in person, because texting is about as nuanced as a brick, and I suck at explaining.

**Blaine:**  You're not mad?

**Sebastian:**  Nick just informed me that the healthy and mature response to that question is no.

**Blaine:**  Tina just confirmed that Nick is right.

**Sebastian:** Hi Tina

**Blaine:**  I will not repeat the hand gesture she just made.

**Sebastian:** Hey, that's an upgrade from a year ago, I'll take it.

**Sebastian:** Can I just ask you for something?

**Blaine:** Of course.

**Sebastian:** Tell me in person next time? I’m a big boy, I can deal with it.

**Blaine:** I will. I’m sorry I didn’t. I’ve just been overwhelmed and forgot until about half an hour ago.

**Sebastian:** Okay

**Sebastian:** Look sorry Trent is yelling at me for not paying enough attention to him, and also we might be at the hotel, so I gotta go

**Sebastian:** Good luck with the Kurt thing

**Sebastian:** And I’ll see you on stage while my team kicks your team’s ass

**Blaine** : You wish :P

 

 

**283**

There was something about Kurt, Blaine realized, as he approached the coffee shop they'd agreed on. He looked, well, more grown up. He stood taller than before (though maybe some of that was the upswept hair), and somewhat looser -- the angle of his shoulders more relaxed, one hip cocked casually as he looked down at his phone. His clothes -- black skinny jeans and a black pinstripe button down -- were simple, but he looked comfortable in them.

Blaine was aware, too, of the way he'd changed in the time since they'd last seen each other. He thought of his hair, looser and curling over his forehead, his shirt and tie, and the sweater vests forever confined to the back of his closet. He thought of how he'd noticed, recently, that he walked with his head up instead of looking at his shoes like they were the most interesting thing in the world. The last year had been good to them both.

Then he looked up, saw Blaine, and gave him a smile so familiar it  _ached_.

Blaine smiled back and waved as he hustled the last block. Kurt beamed and swept him into a hug, Blaine going up on his toes. He still remembered his cologne.

"I'm so glad to see you. You must have gotten in, what, an hour ago?"

"Less, and Sam didn't stop talking for a minute of the trip."

"Sounds about right. Want to go in? This place does ridiculous cookies."

Blaine just smiled and let Kurt open the door. The coffee shop was small and managed to feel both minimalist and cozy, with low gray chairs and chrome-and-white tables. Kurt waved to a barista, a cute white guy with half a dozen piercings and a blue-tipped mohawk, as he headed toward a back corner where a single pair of seats faced each other on opposite sides of an extra-low table.

"I'll get drinks. Do you still drink coffee with almond milk?"

"Yeah, same as always."

"Perfect. I'll be right back."

Blaine settled into his chair -- they were surprisingly comfortable for their plainness -- and watched Kurt stride confidently across the cafe. The barista leaned across the counter to give him a one-armed hug, and they chatted as he poured the coffees. Blaine wondered, idly, if the two of them had dated. The thought didn't feel as weird as he expected. At the counter, Kurt expertly balanced two coffees and a plate of cookies and turned to go, only stopping to laugh as the barista gently (and affectionately) punched his shoulder. He was still smiling when he got back to the table.

"Former cast member," Kurt explained, almost embarrassed, fiddling with his shirt cuff as he sat. Blaine shrugged, trying to convey that it didn't matter.

"So what show are you working on now?"

"'Gas Light.' The director from 'Gypsy' knows the costume designer, so she hired me to work in the shop. Honestly, I didn't know anyone did that show anymore."

"That's awesome."

"I've developed a deep hatred of silk braid trim, but it's fun."

Blaine sipped his coffee and tried to relax. This was Kurt, and yeah, Kurt was his ex, but they'd spent hours and days at a time in each other's company for two years. He'd once felt like Kurt knew him better than he knew himself. "Do you have anything lined up for once it closes?"

"Not yet. I'm going to start school, actually. Columbia -- uh, Columbia College, here in Chicago. They have a theatre design program. I'm going to start part time, so I can keep working." He kept talking, and that was when Blaine realized Kurt was just as nervous as he was. "They have costume classes, but I thought I might take some classes about makeup and lighting as well."

Blaine smiled, hoping to be reassuring, to project that he felt sort of awkward, too, and it was okay. "I bet you'll be running the department within a month."

Kurt sighed over his coffee cup. "I hope so. Anyway, enough about me. Are you getting ready for NYADA?"

It was Blaine's turn to sigh. "I'm trying. By trying, obviously I mean having daily moments of total panic, followed by ignoring it entirely and deciding it's a problem for later. Not very effective."

Kurt chuckled. "I'm doing the same thing, so I get that." He paused, spun the coffee cup on the table. "How is everyone?"

"Good. Sam and Tina are going to Wright next year. Sam's actually leaving town early to do a summer program. He keeps talking about taking some classes on interpretation like Tina."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Are the two of them...?"

Blaine thought about it for a second. "You know... I don't know. If they are, they've kept it under the radar. Not that there's been room for any more drama," he added ruefully. "They've spent a lot of time keeping me out of trouble."

Kurt chewed his lower lip. "So... How's  _that_  going?"

He opened his mouth before he thought it through. "It's good. Honestly. Everyone freaked out, and I guess I can't blame them. I mean, I really should have told them before they found out on Facebook, but..." His brain suddenly caught up. "Is this weird? This feels weird."

Kurt laughed and leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee, loosening up. "A little, I guess. But you're happy?"

"Yeah. I really am."

"Good." Kurt reached across the table and patted his hand. "That's what matters. Has anyone threatened to kill him yet?"

Blaine laughed, despite himself. "Several people. You should have seen Sam and Tina gang up on him. It was funny."

"I can imagine. I'd be scared of Tina, and I've known her forever."

" _I'm_  even a little scared of her, and I'm her favorite. So.... What about you?"

Kurt shrugged. "No one serious. Every time a guy hears I’m not in school, suddenly they’re not available any more. It’s stupid. But I figure they’re not worth my time anyway.”

“That’s definitely true. Well, despite that, I’m glad you’re happy.”

Kurt smiled. “Me too. The both of us.”

They talked for a few more minutes about little things – Blaine gave a few more updates about New Directions and passed along their well wishes, Kurt spilled some theatre gossip – until it was time for Blaine to head back to the hotel. When they parted ways outside the coffee shop, Kurt pulled him into a tight hug. “It was good to see you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Look me up when you’re home for the holidays, alright?”

Blaine smiled. “I will.”

“Break a leg tomorrow.”

“Oh don’t worry, we will.”

The walk back to the hotel was short but the night was beautiful, so Blaine made it last as long as possible. He was surprised to find he didn’t feel sad… just nostalgic. Maybe even a little happy. It was strange how love, even the memory of it, could make a person feel.

 

 

**284**

**Sebastian:** I just realized something

**Sophie** : Aren’t you a little busy today?

**Sebastian:** Yes but that’s not the point

**Sebastian:** I’m having an actual existential crisis

**Sebastian:** When is the last time we traveled separately?

**Sophie** : Holy shit

**Sophie:** I don’t actually know.

**Sebastian:** Ok me either

**Sebastian:** Is that a bad thing?

**Sophie** : It is a little weird

**Sebastian:** But we’re not gonna freak out, right?

**Sophie** : Of course not

**Sebastian:** That would be silly

**Sophie** : AAAAAAAH

**Sebastian:** AAAAAAAH

**Sebastian:** Gotta go perform

**Sebastian:** Love you

**Sophie** : Don’t make a total ass of yourself

**Sebastian:** You suck

 

 

**285**

Mr. Scheuster already had the misty, watery look in his eyes by the time they walked into the green room, and Blaine automatically scanned the room for a box of tissues. Tina, two steps ahead of him as always, nudged him with an elbow and handed them over, and they passed them down the line. The seniors caught each other’s eyes and tried not to cry, but he could feel his breath getting wobbly.

Only when they formed a circle, arms around each other’s waists and shoulders, did Mr. Schue smile at them. “So, here we are. We really made it. I am…” He took a deep breath. “I am so proud of all of you. This has been such an incredible year."

Tina sniffled, and Blaine pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head. It made Mr. Schue look sad. “I can’t believe the last of my original six is leaving me. Tina, Artie – it’s been such an honor to do this with you. It’s been an honor to be here with all of you.” He laughed as he wiped a tear with the heel of his hand. “Alright, enough crying. We have a show to do. Bring it in.”

They huddled together, arms so tightly intertwined that Blaine could wrap an arm around Tina’s back and squeeze Marley’s shoulder. She smiled, and there were tears in her eyes, too. Sam looked ready to start bawling at the drop of a hat.

“We have a hell of a show prepared,” Mr. Scheuster started. “Excuse my language. But it’s true. And I believe that we can take this thing. So, what do you say – who feels like winning Nationals?”

They all cheered as they put their hands in the center of the circle.  
Mr. Scheuster smiled at Artie. “Would you care to do the honors one last time?”

Artie smiled ear to ear. “New Directions, let’s _do this_!”

 

 

**286**

Blaine gave Tina’s shoulder one last squeeze as she left the room, holding up a finger to let her know he’d follow in a second. Mr. Scheuster had his back turned to the door, and Blaine let him take a second to wipe his eyes with a tissue and collect himself.

“Mr. Schue?”

He turned in surprise. His eyes were red. “Yeah, Blaine, what’s up? You should get out there.”

“I know. I will. I just – I wanted to say thanks, first. The last two years since I transferred here – they’ve been complicated, and confusing, and sometimes, honestly, they were scary. But you were there for me, and the New Directions were there for me, no matter what happened. So… Thanks.”

Mr. Scheuster smiled, but he was crying, too, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you, Blaine. That means the world to me.” He took a deep breath. “Alright, incoming hug.”

They both laughed as they embraced, then Mr. Scheuster backed away to hold Blaine at arm’s length, looking for all the world like a proud father. “I’m so glad I got to be your teacher.”

Blaine sniffed and willed himself not to cry. “Me too.”

Mr. Scheuster squeezed his shoulders. “Alright. Get out there and be amazing.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

He had to take a deep breath before heading down the hall and into the auditorium to meet his friends. He would miss this – probably more than anything else.

 

**287**

“You’re late,” Artie whispered as Blaine dropped into the empty seat next to him.

“Sorry, I had to talk to Mr. Schuester.”

“Nah, man, I’m kidding. You’re just in time. Your boy is up.”

Blaine’s heart, the traitor, skipped a beat from excitement, but he didn’t have time to focus on it.

The Warblers filed onstage, to everyone’s surprise, casually. They had all ditched their blazers, and half had no ties and most had their shirtsleeves rolled up. Sebastian broke from the group to approach the front of the stage, putting up a hand to shield his eyes as he looked out over the audience.

“Um, hi everyone.” He turned to look at all his friends. “Guys, can we just…” He made a motion with one hand, and the guys spread out and sat down along the edge of the stage, feet dangling. Blaine noticed Jeff’s red high top sneakers. One of the Warblers’ greatest strengths had always been their sharp synchronicity – apparently that was out the window.

Once everyone was seated, Sebastian turned back. He was grinning, and didn’t look the slightest bit nervous.

“Much better. Anyway, hello. We’re the Dalton Academy Warblers, from Westerville, Ohio. Enjoy.”

He sat down between Trent and Dave, put on a serious expression, and hummed the first note. The rest of the guys joined in, singing a gently syncopated melody, and Blaine recognized it just before Sebastian started to sing.

“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again. It’s been a long, long time.” He smiled softly and his shoulders relaxed, his head tipped slightly back, the very picture of contentment. He was in his element. “Haven’t felt like this my dear since… can’t remember when. It’s been a long, long time.”

Blaine felt like they were the only two people in the whole room. Sebastian wasn’t looking at him, but then, he didn’t have to. Blaine knew, with his full heart, that this song, this moment, was for the two of them. It was about the quiet sort of happiness they’d found in lazy afternoons, late-night conversations, photography, and bad movies.

He felt like he hardly took a breath for the whole song, and when it ended, he had to snap out of it to applaud.

Sebastian grinned out over the audience and the guys began pulling each other to their feet, assembling at the center of the stage. Like flipping a switch, the sharpness and polish was back. Trent glanced up for just a second and winked.

Then they started.

 

**288**

Five seconds in, Blaine leaned over to whisper to Artie. “Are they doing an a capella version of ‘Such Great Heights,’ or am I hallucinating?”

Artie’s mouth was hanging open, and it took him a moment to respond. “Holy shit, I think so.”

Blaine sat back. They were _so fucked_.

 

**289**

Sebastian couldn’t catch his breath. There wasn’t time.

If he stopped, even to think, there was the possibility he’d miss a step, and then it was all going to fall apart. It was best to rely on muscle memory, to trust that his feet would carry him where he needed to go.

When he caught a glance of other Warblers’ faces, they looked just as focused as he felt. They moved around each other seamlessly. Their choreography had them always a half-second away from crashing or tripping each other up, but he knew that they wouldn’t. They’d worked too hard.

He was momentarily surprised when Jeff reached up for a high five as they passed each other, but that was Jeff for you – he was aglow with joy even under pressure.

Sebastian just concentrated.

Step.

Breathe.

Turn.

Step.

Breathe.

Stop.

Then they were in formation, Jeff clapped the last two percussive notes, and it was over. The audience was cheering like crazy but he couldn’t even muster a smile, because every bit of his energy was focused on slowing his breathing.

They took their bow, but it was a blur, and he would never remember the walk offstage.

They filed into the green room in a state of silent shock, and Jeff just dropped onto his back, limbs spread out like a starfish on the floor. He looked dazed. Nick sat down next to him, then Trent sat next to Nick, and soon everyone was sprawled out on the floor. Sebastian sat with his legs out, his weight back on his arms, chest still heaving.

After a long moment of bleary silence, Dave was the first to speak up. “Did we just nail that?”

“Holy shit,” Jeff exclaimed from flat on his back, “I think we did.” He sat up and punched Sebastian in the shoulder. “You crazy fucking genius. You _crazy. Fucking. Genius._ We fucking DID IT!”


End file.
